iRemember
by ColorsOfTheSky101
Summary: So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving...A story that shows just how hard it is to forget.
1. Prologue

Summary: So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to whom she remembers loving

**Summary: **So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to whom she remembers loving her.

**Disclaimer: **iDon't Own iCarly or any of it's characters. Only the ones I make up:)

**iRemember**

**Prologue**

"Hello? Is anyone there?" A flashlight shone around the lobby of _Le Beau_, an extravagant hotel in California. The doorman spoke up once again. "I say, show yourself at _once_, or I will be forced to take drastic measures! I distinctly heard footsteps!"

Sighing, a straight-haired, blonde young woman emerged from behind one of the lobby's white and gold pillars. "Hi Michael…"

The white-haired, mustached doorman breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, it's only you, Miss! I must say, I became quite fearful for a moment there."

"Sorry 'bout that." She said, a smile forming. "I…didn't mean it."

"Do you care to explain why you are sneaking around our lobby at…" Michael pulled up the sleeve of his royal purple uniform to check his golden watch. "Twelve twenty-three A.M.?"

"I've got somewhere to go."

"Surely you've misinterpreted when this meeting is," Michael said reasonably. He made sense, too. "I don't see where a sixteen-year old lady would need to go at this hour."

She fell into a trance for a moment, nervously fingering her straight hair. It used to be much curlier. She used to be able to wear it in whatever way she wanted. That was what it all was; _used to be's_. Nothing more. You'd think she'd _be_ someone with what she was doing. Most people did. They spent their time looking at those supposedly better than them. _Look at her, look at him,_ they would think. _What I would do to be so far ahead._

It was funny. She spent her days thinking, _what I would do to leave this behind._

To be normal again. She didn't care if anyone thought she sounded like a brat. She would be a brat, saying something like that, if it was a _lie_. Girls like who she currently was said statements like that all the time. They swore that, they're just like you, normal…just like you.

But she meant it. She meant it with all her heart.

Or at least, she partly meant it. Long ago, she was normal. She really was like them. But she wasn't anymore.

So now, she would finally answer her own question: _what would I do to not live __**this**__ life anymore. To return to what I remember loving, who I remember loving me._

"No." The blonde shook her head, and meaning it, too. She knew fully well there was no appointment, at least, not a scheduled one. This appointment wasn't texted to her, nor was it implanted in her organizer. Though it was an appointment she was most certainly late for, it was indeed more important to her than anything. "I'm one-hundred percent sure I'm doing the right thing."

"Alright, then. Carry on." Michael said with a shrug. "I expect you'll remember to return soon?"

She looked around; at the tall, shimmering walls, the silver-plated desks, and the large sign that read, '_Reserved For V.I.P_.'

"I'll remember." She nodded. "Bye." And then she was gone. _I'll remember. But that doesn't mean I __**will**__._

* * *

**A/N: Aaand that's the prologue!**

**I just got this idea for a story and had to write it! If you were confused in this, you were supposed to be. I left out many, many details. On purpose:) It'll all be revealed in good time. ****Part of this story will be told in First Person POV. The other part Third Person. You'll see what I mean once chapter one is added. ****So, meanwhile, any guesses to what's going on? I know this seems kind of different from what I usually write, but…it partly is and partly isn't.**

**Wow, sorry about this long and confusing author's note! Review please!**

**-Colors**


	2. Chapter 1

Summary: So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to whom she remembers loving

**Summary: **So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to whom she remembers loving her.

**Disclaimer: **iDon't Own iCarly or any of it's characters. Only the ones I make up:)

**iRemember**

**Chapter One**

You know, I like the California streets so much more when it's dark out and there's no one around.

That probably sounds morbid, but when you can't even walk out of a building in broad daylight without a wave of reporters and screaming people surrounding you, it's pretty awesome to witness peace like this.

Right now, all I'm thinking is, _I'm free_. And it's kind of weird, 'cause I used to think of freedom, and it'd remind me of…I dunno, a slave being freed from labor, winning the Revolutionary War, being done with Miss Briggs' detention, that kind of thing. It's weird now that I can hardly remember what Miss Briggs looks like. Something tells me I don't really want to remember anyway. My point is, I feel free from something most people believe to _be_ freedom. Weird, huh?

I'm Sam Puckett, did I forget to mention that? You might remember me from iCarly.

But you're probably more likely to know me as Samantha Puckétte (yeah, I don't know why they added an accent to my name, the stupid nubs) from the front cover of _Bop_ magazine last month, or _Seventeen _(Which is weird, 'cause I'm not even seventeen. I'm only sixteen, but I guess the whole PG-13 rule doesn't apply here. Maybe _J-14_. I don't really remember. Nor, do I care much. In fact, not at all.

By the way, the nubs I just referred to are my agents, Jaryn and Malcolm Frund. They're the guys who shoved Juicy Couture and Chanel down my throat, banned me from eating ham, bacon, pie – basically anything that wasn't negative calories, straightened my hair, washed me away with makeup, and locked Sam Puckett up in a tower, replacing her with someone with a French-sounding name that makes me want to _Puke_-étte.. I'm from _Seattle_, dummies. They _own_ me, so they say. I've got to do whatever they tell me to, or they'll sue me so bad that I'll have to sell my mom. At least, that's what they say.

Yet, here I am, on the street outside _Le Beau_, ready to disregard every order they'd thrown at me.

I miss the old days, when it was just the three of us. The peacemaker, the rebel and the dork. We would sit around all night, eating watermelon with a spoon and planning our webshow. iCarly. Probably the best thing that happened to me. Ironically, it also caused all of this…the _worst_ thing to ever happen to me.

_"Hello people!" Carly cooed to the camera. Freddie stood behind, as usual, and turned the camera view to Sam, who had on an equally goofy smile._

_"And welcome to jCarly!" she said. "I'm Sam!"_

_"And I'm Carly! But hey, Sam, the show's name is iCarly, not jCarly!"_

_"Ah, well, they look the same!"_

_"They're consecutive in the alphabet!" Freddie chimed in. Sam raised an eyebrow._

_"Did anyone ask you Fredward?"_

_"Well, no, but – "_

_"Didn't think so!" Sam interrupted with emphasis. "Anyway, guys…"_

_"Watch closely as Sam sings My Country 'Tis of Thee while a flail a rubber chicken about the room and throw glitter everywhere!"_

_"Not random at all!" Sam added, laughing, and began singing, as Carly did ridiculous stuff behind her. Freddie was laughing like crazy from behind the camera._

_Sam went front and center, and sang dramatically at the audience and held up her fist, pretending it was a microphone._

_Meanwhile, a way away, a music agent was tuned in to the three friends' show, nodding contently. He had found his star. He whipped out his cell phone and dialed his brother's number. His brother was a big-time music producer. "Malcolm? I think I've just found you the biggest thing since Miley Cyrus."_

_Sam Puckett had no idea her singing and funny acting, right then, had just given her a one-way ticket to superstardom._

iCarly ended after I was gone. I told them, probably, like, fifteen thousand times, that I wanted them to continue. We'd worked so hard. I didn't want to leave, and I was stupid. I didn't realize that _one_ simple CD contract would take my life from me.

Nonetheless, they ended it anyway. From the emails I used to frequently receive from Carly, they tried keeping it going, using Spencer and some of our classmates as her co-hosts, but in the end, it was a lost cause. In fact, the news that iCarly was over was the last email I ever received from Carly.

In the first six months, they came weekly. Sometimes, more than once a week. And I answered them too. Carly was so supportive. She was psyched for my movie to come out. _"I can't wait to see your misbehaved, but super talented self up in the big screen!!" _She'd said. She would send me pictures of Spencer's latest sculptures, what she bought at the mall, and pictures of us from when we were little to cheer me up. It worked, too. I lived here, in California, in a house that was decent-sized and close to the recording studio. I'd wake up, go to Music Madness Studios, sing a ton, get tutored, and then come home. It really wasn't bad, at first. It was fun. I really liked it. And I still felt close to Carly; I knew she missed me. It felt like nothing had changed.

The only thing was, I never heard from Freddie during that time. When I told them I was leaving, he merely grumbled 'good riddance' and stared at the floor. And then he didn't talk to me for the whole week I still had in Seattle…the dork.

And then, I changed. But I didn't mean to, I swear. I was forced.

Thus, Carly's emails were left unanswered. The number of them began dropping, until they just didn't come anymore. As I said, the last email I got was two years ago; She and Freddie had stopped iCarly for good.

I guess up 'til that point, I was still with them. And then I was lost. Sam was gone. For all I know, they could've started it again. I wouldn't know, 'cause Jaryn doesn't let me on the internet. He says it's filled with rumors of me. He didn't want to get any "wise ideas" in my head. _Pfft_. Here's a wise idea, Jaryn; _Don't talk_.

But that'd just the thing. I _don't know_.

I don't know what they look like now. Or how they've changed. I don't know whether or not Freddie grew leg hair, or Carly got her ears pierced, or Spencer grew that Mohawk he'd joked about ('I want to look like a bird!'). I just don't know. It's been three years.

About a year ago, I did get one email from Freddie. It was short, but I've got to say, it cut me deeply. I have it memorized to this day;

_**"To Samantha Puckétte,**_

_**Please tell Sam I miss her. She's been gone for a while, and I don't know where she is.**_

_**-Freddie Benson"**_

It was such a Freddie email. He was always smart. But at the time, I was too wrapped up in what interview was next; too busy hating fame but pretending I loved it.

There's never any time to think, with so much going on. Jaryn would pull me from audition to audition, talk show to talk show, stylist to stylist. It didn't leave any time to think. And I don't care how ridiculous it sounds, but it's true.

So the only time I ever had the chance to think was late at night, when the cameras were gone, the fans were asleep, and it was just…_me_. And I would think about them, and all the great times we've had. I would think about messing with Lewbert and going to Build-A-Bra with Carly and making bets with Freddie. I would think about iCarly and how much it meant to us. I would think about the look on Carly's face when I gave them the news that I, Sam Puckett, was going to be a star. I would think about the ice in Freddie's voice when he said he didn't care…and the doubt.

And then I would dream about them. I dreamt about what it would be like to go back; for it all to go back to the way it was before. _Every night_, I dreamed! Every stinkin' night!

To the point where I just couldn't take it anymore.

So here I am, out on the street, looking for a way to somehow get to Seattle.

Hiya.

**A/N: Chapter one; done. What did you think? It definitely gave away a ton of info, but hang tight, it only gets crazier.**

**An update of iSam will be out tomorrow.**

**Meanwhile, take my Seddie or Creddie poll on my profile!**

**-Colors**


	3. Chapter 2

Summary: So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving

**Summary: **So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving her.

**Disclaimer: **iDon't Own iCarly or any of it's characters. Only the ones I make up:)

**iRemember**

**Chapter Two**

It's insanely cold out. I'm rubbing my arms like a maniac, even though I'm wearing a jacket. You'd think California would be warm twenty-four seven.

Seattle has normal weather. Dunno if it still does, as I haven't been there in thirty-six months. For all I know, it could be covered in ice. I'm _that_ out of the loop.

All I'm saying is, when I was there, the weather made sense, along with a lot of things. And when it didn't, the three of us would find a way to make the best of it.

* * *

_"Sam, pass me that fan." Carly asked groggily. The iCarly trio sat on Carly's couch. It was 98 degrees in Seattle that summer afternoon. And it was torturing them._

_Sam looked from the fan on the table in front of her, and then past Freddie to Carly. "Nah, it requires effort."_

_"You're always lazy," Freddie says, taking a drink of his water._

_"Shut up Freddork," Sam said tiredly. "It's too hot to counterattack you with all the negative things about __**you**__." Freddie gaped and looked away angrily._

_"I'll just get it myself." Carly cut in, grabbing the fan and turning it on. It was one of those battery-operated fans that squirted water. She squirted water in her face and then sighed a breath of relief. "So, what do you guys wanna do? It's too hot to plan iCarly…"_

_"We could squirt that fan down Freddie's pants." Sam suggested nonchalantly. _

_"What? The nozzle wasn't enough?!" Freddie argued. "You know, I came home that day, and my mom thought I wet myself, so she made me wear training pants to bed for a whole week!"_

_"Aww, poor little nerd." Sam pinched his cheek and he whapped her hand off._

_"You know what, Sam?!" he yelled. "I don't think –"_

_"La la la la la la…!" Sam plugged her eyes and sang la's to block out his comeback._

_"Stop it! You didn't let me finish!"_

_"La La La La…"_

_"You're being __**so**__ disrespectful right now!"_

_"La la la la la!"_

_Carly sighed in frustration, stood up, and squirted water at the two of them with her fan until they stopped. They stopped and stared at her. "Are you two done?"_

_"Yes." They both said, glancing at each other. Suddenly, Sam snapped her fingers._

_"Hey, Carls, you just gave me an idea!" she said. "Let's have a spray fan fight. You got two more?!"_

_"Oh yeah, Spencer has some in his room!"_

_"Let's do it." Freddie said, excited._

_"Be afraid Freddo." Sam smirked. "Be __**very**__ afraid." The three of them ran up the stairs._

* * *

Now? I'm cold, with no one to help me out. And it sucks.

I brush memories out of my mind and stare straight ahead, focusing on the task ahead.

Well, firstly, I needed a disguise. If anyone were to see me out here, I would never get out of this stupid town.

Where to go, where to go.

I look around, hoping for a Costume Shop, Hair Salon, or possibly a hobo with a wig. Who am I kidding; there are no hobos outside _Le Beau_. Anything that doesn't scream RICH AND BEAUTIFUL gets a big, fat "bye-bye."

I finally catch sight of a trailer labeled "PROPS" and smile, satisfied. They were always shooting movies around these parts, so there was random movie-type stuff everywhere.

I walk quietly over to the trailer and take a bobby pin out of her hair. With a frown, I realize; I don't remember how to pick locks.

I used to pick locks on a daily basis. See? This is what I mean. Sam Puckett is gone. Freddie's email from so long ago was totally, completely right. Even now, I hate him for being right. Yet I also completely love him for it.

In a platonic way, I mean. Don't go getting ideas!

Um, anyway, I turn the knob, in hopes that it's miraculously unlocked. And it is. I smile contently; everything was going well so far. Maybe this won't be as hard as I thought…

I walk in and flip on the light switch. The whole trailer illuminates the array of incredibly odd-looking costumes. What is this, _Freak Show_ the movie?!'

The only wigs they have are a curly, short, red wig, a green, high wig, and a long, straight, blue-haired wig.

I decide on the pink wig. No way was I wearing an alien wig, for one thing, and also, the blue wig would just be…Samantha Puckétte with blue hair. No point.

Great, so now I'm wearing a red wig. Shouldn't be too noticeable…Ha, I'm funny.

There's a pair of grey sweatpants, and a blue T-shirt in there, and I change into those. I keep my jacket though. Like I said, it was _cold_. Then, I grab a pair of large, Paris Hilton-like shades.

I start looking around for anything else useful, but then I decide I'd stolen enough. I had money, a lot of it, as obnoxious as that sounds. I'd be fine.

I close the door of the trailer, and I'm back on the lonely sidewalk of Hollywood.

Okay. Now all I have to do is, find a ride to the airport, get a ticket for a flight to Seattle, find out where Carly and Freddie live, get there, and…well, I don't exactly know what I'm going to do when/if that time comes. I'm hoping it'll just fall into place.

Sometimes, I doubt that they even remember me. Maybe they glance at a magazine cover or article I'm in and go, "Hey, I used to know that girl!" But do they remember _me_?

What if the memory of Sam Puckett's gone? Just, gone completely? I mean, it'd make sense, since I am technically gone. Even my mom doesn't recognize me anymore. Just yesterday, she asked me if I wanted her to sneak me some ham. I told her I _hated_ ham. Which pretty much says it all, doesn't it?

Just for the record, I don't even remember what ham tastes like. I only know that I used to love it. I used to take so much advantage of all the little things in my life – the foods I loved, the places I liked to go, the jokes I liked to make. I never realized how much all those bits and pieces that make up who I am would be so important to hold on to.

If I had just took a moment, a stupid second, to think about what I was giving up, in comparison to what I was gaining, I'm positive I would've ripped that stupid contract up and chucked it at Jayrn's head. I would've screamed, "I'm Sam Puckett, you nub! I don't let _anyone_ tell me what to do!"

But I didn't. I gave myself up without even realizing it.

I don't think I'm even _worth_ Carly and Fredward's memories. I kick a pebble on the street in frustration. It hurts to think that I miss them and remember them all too well, and it could very well be the opposite for them, concerning me.

Whatever. I've got to do this. There's no turning back.

* * *

_"You're… what?" Carly blinked. She couldn't believe what Sam, her best friend, since the age of eight, had just said._

_"Yeah, these two guys want to make me all 'famous'!" Sam said, saying 'famous' in a joking manner. "How nutty is that?"_

_"What do you mean nutty?" she asked, exasperated all of a sudden. "You're just leaving?! What about me? And Freddie? And what's gonna happen to iCarly?"_

_"C'mon, Carly, the show can survive without me." Sam said, truly believing it could. "What about Freddie?"_

_"Never mind," Carly answered quickly. "I'll just…I'll miss you. You're my best friend."_

_"Hey, it's not gonna change anything," Sam reassured. "We'll always be friends. We'll call and email all the time. I might not see you as often as I'd wanna, but…" Sam sighed, looking away. "I dunno, I really want to do this. Finally, something I'm good at that's important, you know?"_

_Carly looked at her friend for a long time. It would be hard to not see her all the time. She told Sam everything. She was her sister. Sure, they'd had their fair share of disagreements, but they always fixed it. Would Sam's fame tear them apart…but, for good?_

_"You promise we'll always be friends?" she asked quietly._

_"I promise, kid," Sam smiled. "Let's ankle swear on it."_

_Carly smiled and they went through the long process of an ankle swear._

_"I swear." They both said together at the end, and then they hugged._

_"When you are leaving?" Carly asked._

_"About a week." Sam said sadly. "But hey, we've got one more iCarly 'til then!"_

_"Yeah…" Carly fakes a smile, wondering what will happen, in reality. She made a vow to not let fame get to Sam's head, and secretly added it to their ankle swear._

_Another ankle swear; broken._

* * *

Just my luck, a taxi happened to drive by. It's pretty uncommon to see a taxi in this part of California, much less at, like, quarter to one in the morning.

"Hey! Taxi! Stop!" I yell, running after it. My wig almost falls off, but I grab it just in the nick of time. The taxi screeches to a halt.

"I'm off shift!" the guy yells, as he opens the door.

"Oh please." I roll my eyes. "Just give me a ride to the nearest airport, will ya?"

"Fine, fine." The driver mumbles. "Take time out of my break…"

I climb in and buckle my seatbelt. "Thanks buddy."

"Don't call me buddy." He mumbles. The driver has creepily straight hair, bulgy eyes and annoyingly perfect posture. "And how old are you anyway? Why in the world are you out so late?"

"I'm sixteen." I fold my arms across my chest. "It's not like I'm five. Besides, there's something really important I gotta do. It's none of your concern!"

"Well, sorry." The dude rolls his eyes and stops the taxi. "We're here. Whoop dee doo. You owe me five bucks, miss."

"Here." I take a five-dollar bill out of my pocket and hand it to him, as I open the door. We're at California Fields Airport. "Thanks, mister…?"

"Sockberg," he answers. "Socko Sockberg."

My eyes widen. _Socko_? Could it be?

"Socko?!" I say, really surprised. "As in, Spencer's sock-obsessed friend?!"

"Spencer…" Socko thinks for a moment. "You mean Spencer Shay?"

"Yeah!" I'm pretty dang excited now. But also confused. This isn't how I pictured Socko at all, back when Spencer described him to us. He's a taxi driver now? What happened to his socks? "I'm fr – I, um, know his sister, Carly. Would you happen to know where they live now?"

"Sorry, not sure." He answers. "I haven't spoken to Old Spence in about two years."

I raise an eyebrow. "Why…?"

"I dunno." He sighed, drumming his hands on the steering wheel. "Apparently his sister was going through some rough times. He suddenly decided to shape up and act like an adult, for her sake. Stupid, really…but he came to me one day and told me that his colorful sock days were behind him, and he would no longer need my services. Then I never heard from him again."

Suddenly I'm feeling guiltier than I've ever felt before. I ruined Spencer's life. I ruined Socko's life. If I could ruin the life of some dude I had only known by name up 'til this point, I can only imagine what else I could've messed up by leaving. "That's…I'm really sorry…" And I mean it.

"Hey, life goes on." Socko shrugs.

I nod. Sure, life goes on after bad stuff happens. It has to. Sadness doesn't stop the world from turning, or oxygen being produced…or people breathing it. Life itself has to go on. But maybe…not in the way it should sometimes. "Just…one more question; why're you a taxi driver? What happened to your flashy sock selling?"

"Oh, simple." Socko gives a sad smile. "Spencer was my only customer. Have a good night." And he drives off.

I sigh. I guess things change.

But there's just gotta be an edit button somewhere.

I stare at the airport in front of me. _Next stop; Seattle, to fix it all._

At least…I hope.

* * *

**A/N: I think that's so sad about Socko, don't you?:(**

**It really makes you think…what else has changed since Sam up and left?**

**You'll discover that soon enough.**

**Anyway, meanwhile, pleaseee review?**

**-Colors**


	4. Chapter 3

Summary: So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving

**Summary: **So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving.

**Disclaimer: **iDon't Own iCarly or any of it's characters. Only the ones I make up:)

**iRemember**

**Chapter Three**

_Carly, Spencer, Mrs. Benson, Terrine, and even Jeremy and Gibby._

_Sam saw all those people. She didn't have a lot of loved ones…a lot because she was a bit aggressive, but seeing everyone there to see her flight, she felt almost perfect._

_It would've been completely perfect if Freddie was there._

_She had said her goodbyes. Some were hard, like Carly's and Spencer's. Some were funny, like the wedgie she gave to Gibby. She was supposed to be ready to leave, to dive head-first into Hollywood and new beginning, which would later become her very demise, unbeknownst to her. She should be ready._

_But she wasn't._

_Was she really that insignificant to her dorky friend? Sure, they'd fought a lot, but it was always so harmless. It was their thing. They made bets and picked on each other and argued about incredibly stupid stuff. Did he take it all seriously? Did all those funny times – the bets, the name-calling, the competitions – really push him to hate her?_

_It had to be hate; it was the only option. Why else would he be letting her leave, without even saying some kind of goodbye?_

_Sam was hurt, but she wouldn't cry. Not for him, or for anyone. Sam Puckett did not, doesn't, and will never cry._

_She gave a smile, wary smile to them all, and turned to Mrs. Benson. "Where's your dorky son?"_

_The question came out half-heartedly._

_Mrs. Benson gave a sad smile. "He says he's sick, honey. But I'm sure he's upset that he doesn't get to see you off."_

_**Yeah…right…I'm sure he is.**_

_**The only thing he's sick of is me.**_

_"Okay. Whatever, then." She shrugged, but she was sad. Really sad. Everyone could tell._

_"Sam! The plane is ready to board! Get your patooty over here!" her mom screamed._

_Sam hugged Carly one more time. Then, she looked around. All around the airport. She looked everywhere she possibly could for a sign of a dorky shirt or a short kid holding a laptop._

_Nope. Nothing._

_So she was gone._

* * *

I don't like airports.

It's not that I'm scared of flying or anything. I like flying. It's insanely awesome to be so far from the ground and your problems. That's probably the only part I liked about fame – all the travel. But not even the places I went and the stuff I did there – just, the flights. The flying. I love that.

It's the airports I hate. Why?

Well, think about it; airports equal goodbyes. They've_ always _equaled goodbyes. And I'm not talking about little-girl-flies-to-sleep away-camp-across-the-country goodbyes. That little girl will see her family again, once she says goodbye. She'll write them letters, they'll send her pictures. The goodbye is only temporarily.

But _my_ life has hooked me up with permanent goodbyes. They're all permanent.

When my dad went on that airplane in September 2001, we all said goodbye to him. We all hugged him, told him how much we'd miss him, and for him to have a safe trip…but none of that mattered. Because then he was gone. Taken down along with the plane. I don't like to talk about it all that much.

When I said goodbye to Carly, to Spencer, to all these people who went to see me leave for here, this _stupid_ town, little did they know Sam Puckett would be gone. Not dead, but dormant; hiding; too scared to reemerge. So they said goodbye. And I left. The goodbye didn't make a difference.

Here's the thing about goodbyes; it doesn't matter how long they are, how much of them there are…When you say goodbye, for real, there can never be enough to fix the pain.

So that's why I hate airports. And goodbyes. Especially when they're combined.

Not to mention they're totally creepy at night. I walk in and the lights are all off. The ceiling in high and desolate-looking. I appear to be on the first floor of two. The floors are marble green. All the lights are off, except for a booth across the floor.

I approach the booth. "Hey lady?"

The women, who has brown messy hair and ugly glasses, jumps nearly five feet in the air, her papers flying everywhere. She scrambles around to reorganize them, throwing me a glare. Spaz.

"What can I do for you?" she asks, her teeth gritted. _Well, she's charming…_

"I need the soonest ticket to Seattle." I tell her clearly. "There any planes that leave now?"

"What do you think we are, the Magic School Bus service?" Miss Cranky snaps. "It's one A.M.! _I_ shouldn't even be here right now. My boss is forcing me to." _Wow lady, you're a mess. _I really shouldn't be talking though.

"Well…you could just quit then." I shrug. "If it's not something you wanna do."

"It's not that easy, you can't just leave when you want things to change. Life doesn't work that way. And I will not be taking life advice from a teen girl!" she says. _Oh, how wrong you are_.

"Okay then…" I say awkwardly. "Can ya just check when the next flight is?"

Crankypants sighs and opens a file on her laptop. "Earliest flight is 5 AM."

She hands me a ticket, and I pay for it. "Can I stay here 'til then?"

"Knock yourself out." The lady sighs. "I'm finished." She closes her booth and walks out of the airport.

Great. I was making such great time up until now.

I slide down on a wall and end up sitting on the cold ground. Reality starts to sink in.

I'm crazy. I really am. I'm risking everything and anything for people who could very well hate me right now.

I push the trailer sunglasses further up my nose and set my back in front of me. Did I forget to mention I was carrying a bag?

It's pretty stupid…but…all that's in the bag are pictures. A photo album, actually. Carly made it for me before I left.

I used to look at it daily. You know, in those first six months. But after I made my Puckett-to-Puckétte transformation, it was stuffed in a corner of my room.

For some reason, I opted to bring it when I went to stay at Le Beau. And for the very same reason, I further opted to bring it with me, although I still hadn't looked at it. I knew the reason. I bet you do too. I feel it's implied.

Anyway, now it's right in front of me. And get this; I've ridden the biggest roller coasters out there, I've stood up to just about every teacher who tried to control me back in school, and I even went bungee jumping one time. But I'm afraid to open a stupid _book_. It's actually not stupid at all. I don't know why I said that. Eh, I guess I'm just tired.

Finally, I muster enough dignity to open the thing.

_**HELLO, MY MISBEHAVED SECOND HALF,**_

_**It's GIBBY!**_

_**Just kidding, it's me, Carls. I put this together for you a couple days ago. Rules: 1) Don't toss it away! 2) Don't eat it. And 3) Don't trade it away like you did with me shirt! Haha:)**_

_**I'm going to miss you a lot. It really won't be the same. You can't spell same without 'sam,' you know? But I know this is what you want to do.**_

_**I hope this brings back some awesome and barely sticky memories!**_

_**-Carly**_

I smile softly. Those rules.

Two out of three isn't bad.

The first picture is of the two of us, with a tuna sandwich, the day we met.

_"Can you believe we became friends over a tuna sandwich?" I asked, laughing._

_"I know! And now you hate tuna." Carly added._

_"No, I hate the way that British chick in our English class says tuna!"_

_"Oh, right…teeoona!"_

_"I just adaw teeoona!" I laughed._

_"Heh, teeoona." Freddie laughed from where he stood at his laptop._

_"Yeah, don't play along."_

I flip through the pages, memories coming back full force. There are pictures from the first iCarly webcast. We were all so tiny!

I keep flipping, finding pictures of pranks played on Lewbert, pranks I played on Fredward, Carly and I joking around at Glitter Gloss, us with Spencer and Spencer's sculptures, us with the Plain White's T's and a picture of me with the World's Fattest Priest. My eyes water. He died two and a half years ago. Kind of symbolic.

There's a picture of the two of us with Zebo the dinosaur (I'm punching him with great force!), at TVS, my first shot at fame. Apparently I'm too stupid to take a hint.

There's a bunch of others; random pictures from the beach and Groovy Smoothies and the iCarly studio; sometimes the three of us, sometimes with Spencer, who was wearing light-up socks in every single one. Even the beach ones!

I'm about to close the book, as I'd finished looking, when I noticed; there were two pages stuck together! There's a page I haven't seen.

I quickly pull them apart and view the page.

My heart literally freezes up. I can't breathe.

It's a picture of the dork and I, fighting over a muffin (apparently, it was the last one).

I remember.

I remember it, when it was taken. Carly took the picture, and then threatened to post it all over iCarly if we didn't stop fighting.

_"You can't torture me like that!" I begged Carly. "That's proof that I associate with…it!" I pointed to the dork sitting next to me, clinging on to the muffin I was clinging onto._

_He turned to look at me. "Has anyone ever told you you're rude and obnoxious?"_

_I smiled sweetly._

_Then I shrugged at Carly and stuffed the muffin at his nose._

Okay, my thoughts have been overly-centered around Freddie. I'm getting ahead of myself.

I just want to see him again…to find out why he decided to hate me for following what I thought was my dream. That's all, folks.

I close the book and gently place it back in my bag, which also contains my Puckétte clothes.

I finally understand why I'm so willing to risk all I have for these people, as I sit here in the dark, closed airport.

In all honesty…I have _nothing_ to lose.

Against my will, I fall asleep.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, yes, I know I said I'd updated Four Corners next, but I LOVE writing this story. Lol.**

**Just so you know, all quotes are mine, except for the tuna sandwich one. That's from iDon't Wanna Fight.**

**I hope you liked this chapter. It was more of a…reflection chapter, I guess. Just a lot of thoughts. Sam's actual journey doesn't progress much. Just her internal one.**

**Oh, by the way, some of you have asked where I got this story idea from. Well, I didn't get it from any other stories, but I was inspired by the song Hollywood's Not America, by Ferras. You may have heard it on American Idol. It's a great song. And while you're listening to the lyrics, replace "Helena Jane" with "Sam Puckett":)**

**Alrites, gotta get some sleep!**

**Laters.**

**-Colors**


	5. Chapter 4

Summary: So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving

**Summary: **So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving.

**Disclaimer: **iDon't Own iCarly or any of it's characters. Only the ones I make up:)

**iRemember**

**Chapter Four**

I'd fill you in on the details of my flight, but in all honesty, they're not that interesting. I woke up at, like, 5:30 AM. Luckily, my flight was delayed, so I was able to go through all the plane boarding procedures and get on before it took flight. I slept for the entire flight. What do you expect? I was tired! It was only an hour flight anyway.

Now I'm standing in Seattle, but it's a part that I haven't been in before. I don't recognize any of it. Good news; Seattle is _not_ covered in ice.

My wig is also off. It was getting really itchy, so I took it off when I got off the plane. I figure, since I'm still wearing my sunglasses, no one will notice who I am.

I have this rush of adrenaline going through me right now. It's sort of like…the old Sam, coming back, really slowly. Just being so close to where I used to live…it's pretty wild stuff.

I'm standing on a street I've never seen before. Actually, I might've been there. I really don't remember. It's all been drained from me by those bozos Jaryn and Malcolm. I smirk. They're probably flipping out, wondering where their precious Puckétte is.

Ha. They thought I was _so_ clueless. They thought they'd taken me over.

But I'm back in Seattle. They lost. I won. I forgot how good it felt to win.

So what to do now? Ah, I've got time.

I'm stalling; so sue me. It's not exactly a situation I can be completely confident about, you know?

It's about seven A.M., and the sun's just rising. Freddie once told me that watching the sun rise means you're starting over again. At that time, I'd laughed and called him a geek-burger with a side of geek fries. I now realize just how much sense it makes.

The sun's not up yet. It's not day, nor is it night. It's not today yet, but it's also not yesterday. It's the time between what you were before, and who you could be now. There's a certain uncertainty that just keeps you on your toes.

Freddie was really a lot smarter than I gave him credit for. And not just about tech stuff.

There are a couple of cars driving by; probably busy people going to work. It's a Saturday, so people probably aren't in school. Unless they're like Sam Puckett and have Saturday detention.

I'm looking around, when suddenly, I spot a familiar face. My eyes widened. I don't know whether to be totally stoked or scared half to death. Because, walking an angry-looking wiener dog across the street was none other than –

"Miss Briggs!" I shout, although I wasn't positive it was her. Apparently it is, 'cause she looks up, startled, looking around for who could've yelled her hated name. She spots me and squints. Then, she and Mr. Weenie walk across the street.

"Who are you?" she snaps. "I've got important matters to attend to."

"Dontcha remember me, Briggo?" I ask with a smirk. I raise my sunglasses quickly, and she gapes. Then I put them back down.

"Sam Puckett." She shakes her head and crosses her arms. "Quite honestly, I can't believe you're here, of all people."

"I'm pretty shocked I'm here, too, actually." I give a small smile. "So, what's up, Briggs? How's life?"

"Terrible." She snaps. "My other dog ran away and my husband joined the circus."

I raise an eyebrow. Well, thanks for sharing, Briggs. What a life changing reunion this has been. Truly. "Oh, well…that's…actually, I don't really have a word to describe that."

"So what brings you back to this town?" she asks. I'm not sure she actually cares, but whatever.

I shrug. "I figured it was the closest thing to an escape I could fine. Hey, do you know if Freddie Benson and Carly Shay still live in Bushwell Plaza?"

She stares into space, as if she's remembering something. "Ah, the infamous troublesome trio. You three were always doing something or other to drive me nuts. Those were the days…"

"Um…yeah, good times." I say awkwardly.

"Whatever happened to you three?" she wonders. "Though I hate you and all children, I don't see Carly and Freddie speaking much anymore."

"What?" I'm shocked. Literally.

Carly and Freddie aren't speaking? No way. There's just no way. Freddie was _in love_ with that girl! If there's anything I knew for a fact from three years ago, it was that. He followed her around like a little lovesick puppy, for ham's sake! My leaving couldn't have changed that. That's ridiculous. There's probably some other reason…yeah, that's it.

"It's a shame, I suppose." Briggs shakes her head. "But, really, can there be an infamous troublesome trio of _two_ people? Most likely not."

"Which way is Bushwell Plaza?!" I say quickly. All of a sudden, I just want to get there. Fast. No more stalling. I needed to know exactly what I caused. I needed to see Carly and Freddie and Spencer and everyone again.

I was happiest around them. I really was. And I really want that back, but I won't get my hopes up just yet. For all I know, they could slam the door right in my face. I mean, why not? That's what I did to them…well, to Carly. But I guess Freddie too. Carly tried, and I guess even Fredward somewhat tried, to reach out to the Sam in me. But Samantha Puckétte kept slamming the door, blocking them out.

I've got to open that dang door.

"Bushwell Plaza? It's, hmm…" Miss Briggs thinks for a moment.

"Spit it out, woman!" I scream. Okay, can ya blame me?

"It's that way! Just a couple blocks down!" she yells, pointing to the right. Then she rolls her eyes. "Hooligan." She turns and continues left as I run right.

Everything's a blur around me, and all I can sense is my feet hitting the sidewalk and my heavy breathing.

See, the thing is, I'd walk around, and try to take in Seattle and what's changed about this town…but, I didn't come here just to…come _here_.

I came because of who lived here. If they were in Mexico, I'd go there, too.

But they are here, so now I'm running because really, there's no time to lose. What was I thinking, stalling? I think I've stalled enough, don't you?

So I'll just jump in. So to speak.

I just keep running, trying not to think to deeply of the situation ahead. I didn't feel it's help me if I scared myself half to death. Yeah, it wouldn't.

And, just like that, there building is in front of me. I can see Freddie's window from where I'm standing. I smile softly. _I'm home_.

* * *

_"Sam, how could you drop a piece of ham out the window?" Carly questioned her insane best friend. They were both aged ten and working on a project at Freddie's apartment. "How does that even play out?"_

_"Freddie did it!" Sam pointed at the small brunette boy typing on his laptop. He looks up and glares._

_"Did not!" he whines. "Why would I throw a meat product out the window?"_

_"I dunno, 'cause you're a meat head!" she sticks out her tongue and looks back out the window._

_"That's mean!"_

_"Too bad!"_

_"Why do you care so much, anyway?" Carly cut in._

_"Easy," Sam turns around. "Once something falls out a window, there's a pretty big chance it's __**gone**__!"_

_"Oh, just get another slice!"_

* * *

I take a deep breath and clutch my bag, which is on my right shoulder. The building looks the same, for starters. But what about the people in it?

Welp, only one way to find out.

I cautiously enter the building. The lobby looks the same, maybe a bit cleaner but the same. _So far so good…_

I approach the main desk and ring the bell, expecting a nasty man with a wart to turn around and go "nyahhh PEOPLE IN MY LOBBY."

"Can I help you?" a normal-looking male turns around and smiles.

"Wh – Lewbert?" I can't help but say.

"Lewbert? No, I'm David." He says. "Do you need assistance with anything?"

Oh, so Lewbert was replaced, huh?

I mean, part of me is thinking, hallelujah, that nasty dude's gone forever!

But…it's just…there are all these changes. When you're around while the changes are happening, they don't seem that big. But when you come back, like I'm doing, and they all just come at you, it's really overwhelming.

Maybe I'm underestimating what I'm about to do?

"Um, yeah." I'm staring into space, thinking. "I was wondering if the Shay or Benson family live here…"

"Hold on a moment." David turns around and checks his computer. Moments later, he whirls back around. "Yes, they do, in fact. Third floor, rooms 3B and 3D. Would you like me to ring them and tell them you're here? What is your name?"

"No, no!" I say quickly. "I'll…I'll surprise them."

"Okay. Have a lovely morning." He says. I turn around and raise an eyebrow. Lovely morning? For serious?

I head up the stares, my heart pounding more and more with each step. There's like a drummer in my heart.

Okay, sorry 'bout that lame simile.

It's so surreal, what I'm doing right now. All those lonely nights of dreaming of what it would be like to see the dork again. Carly, too, of course. I had all these ridiculous scenarios in my mind, like a kid wondering what it'll be like to go to high school. Except it's really the opposite for me. I'm moving backwards, not forwards. Well, I'm trying to.

The steps are now behind me, and there they are. The two doors. The homes of Carly and Freddie. I'm really here. I'm really back. I feel like crying. I won't, but I feel like it.

Here's where I wish I'd planned better, 'cause I have no clue what to do next. Can I really just knock on their door, watch them open it and go "Surprise!"? I should've thought this through a bit more. I guess that's one thing about me that'll never change; I act on impulse. And once I realize I might've gone and done something too abruptly, it's too late to turn around.

I'll admit it right now; I'm scared. Just, scared still. I can't even breathe. I need to plan this carefully. But how?

Too bad fate decides to direct it for me.

"Carly, you better not step out that door!" I hear a loud, stern voice say. Carly's dad, maybe?

"You're not the boss of me! I can step wherever I want!" I'm frozen still when I hear my previous best friend screaming like she's some obnoxious rebel kid.

The voice is Carly's, but it feels like the aggression and the words coming out are a completely different person.

"I will not tolerate that tone, young lady!" Carly's apparent dad screams. "I'm your guardian, therefore what I say goes. Now go to your room!"

"Make me!"

"What did you just say?" the man sounds really angry now. I'm just plain confused.

"You heard me!" Carly yells. "Stop trying to control me, I can do whatever I want!"

"Not while I'm in charge!"

"Who says you're in charge?!

"Carly Marissa Shay, you cannot just run out that door. Do you hear me?" I gear footsteps and my eyes grow wide. I look around for a place to hide, but can find none. It happens too quickly.

"Watch me!" she shouts furiously. The door opens, and she storms out.

And I gasp, shocked.

'Cause standing in front of me is a girl who sounds like Carly Shay, lives where Carly Shay is, but…no. This couldn't be her. _This isn't Carly_.

She turns my way, angrily, starts storming away, but spots me.

She narrows her eyes, squinting, almost like she thinks she's imagining things, and then her face turns from anger, to pure, utter, complete shock.

I bite my lip and wave half-heartedly, not knowing what to expect.

* * *

**A/N: Wow, I feel like people are really going to hate me for that cliffhanger. Sorry, in advance!**

**But wow, pretty intense right there.**

**What did you all think? While I was writing this chapter, I was sort of feeling what Sam was feeling. Pretty weird.**

**I'll update this soon, so don't worry, you won't be hanging on that cliff for too long;)**

**-Colors**


	6. Chapter 5

Summary: So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving

**Summary: **So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving.

**Disclaimer: **iDon't Own iCarly or any of it's characters. Only the ones I make up:)

**iRemember**

**Chapter Five**

_"Hi, I'm Sam!" an eight-year old blonde little girl approached a brunette, looking about her age, sitting and eating a sandwich._

_"I'm Carly." She answered, smiling. Sam sat down next to her, glancing at her half-eaten sandwich with desire._

_"Can I have that sandwich?" she asked eagerly._

_Carly glared. "No way! Get your own!"_

_But Sam wanted that sandwich. She pushed Carly off the table, and picked up the sandwich, about to eat it when – _

_**Wham!**__ She found herself face first on the ground. She was shocked. No one had ever set her straight like that before._

_She stood up and sat back down next to her new friend. "You're alright…"_

* * *

"Carly, get back – !" Spencer, yes, that screaming guy was _Spencer_, walks out of the room. I look over at him quickly, just as Carly does, and then do a double-take.

He's wearing a black, _normal_, _boring_ suit, _boring_ black tie, _boring_ black socks…_glasses_? Socko wasn't kidding. Suddenly I'm feeling really sad. But this all happens in probably…2 seconds in time.

He spots me and opens his mouth, like he's gonna say something, then closes it again, and just slowly backs back into their apartment. Smart guy.

"Carly?" I whisper, 'cause, being honest here, I'm not positive it's really her.

First of all, her hair is blonde. Yes, _blonde_! But not even my blonde…I'm talking, white blonde, perfect-looking blonde.

Second of all, she's probably wearing a skirt shorter than my stupid directors even made me wear. And heels. Since when does Carly wear _heels_? And the worst part; she's carrying a poodle in her purse!

Who is she, Paris Hilton?!

I sort of feel like my best friend died, right now. Because I'm looking at her, and I don't know who she is anymore. I'm thinking of all those great times we had three years ago – they're gone. They're really gone.

I guess Carly Shay disappeared, too.

"What happened to you?" I continue, shocked.

'Carly' looks at me some more. Maybe she's thinking the same thing about me…that I'm gone. That I've been gone, and now it's a fact.

And it would be pretty ridiculous…if it wasn't happening to me. I mean, if I were watching it on TV or something.

I'm talking about how we're both gone, yet we're both standing right here. I can see her clearly, and I'm guessing she can see me clearly, too…unless this Carly's _blind_, too.

It's creepy; we've never been more alike, yet we've never been so separate.

"What?" she asks quietly, not understanding. She shakes her head. "I've got to be imagining things. Sam's gone. She left. She can't be here." She storms by me, and it takes me a second to react.

"No, it really is me! It's Sam!" I tell her loudly. "Carly…?"

She turns around and shoves her poodle in my face, which starts to bark. "Get away from me, you psycho Samantha Puckétte clone wanna-be stalker! I've got back-up!"

"But I –"

She flips her hair. "I don't have time for this. I've got a party to go to. Do yourself a favor and get some mental help." She glares. "My friend Sam left a long time ago, 'kay? So why don't _you_?" She turns and walks away.

So _that_ was the moment I've been waiting for for three years? To finally see my best friend again?

I yank the stupid sunglasses off my face and throw them against the door. Then I slide down on the wall and put my hands around my knees.

I wanted to see my best friend; now I never will.

I mean, okay, maybe I was expecting too much. Part of me wanted to come back, and for everything to just – _bam!_ – be back to normal. I think that's how a lot of people life was like.

I can't help but be let down though – just a…_little_?

She could've yelled her guts out at me if she wanted! But _denying_ that I'm here?

No, I'm _not_ going to cry. I will not cry. Nope. No. I will _not_.

"She left, did she?" I yelp and jump where I'm sitting. I look up. It's Spencer.

"You – you know it's me, right?" I say, making sure, as I stand up. "And yes, she left."

"Yes, Samantha, I'm aware of your existence." He says. I stare at him strangely.

"Will you quit talking like that?"

"Of what do you mean?"

"Like tha – " I stop. Right. New Spencer. "Never mind. Can I come in?"

He chuckles. Now I'm getting scared here. Spencer doesn't chuckle, okay? Everything's going wrong! "Yes. Ah, the days when you just barged in without asking…"

I walk in. There's no artwork around like there used to be. In fact, the whole room's pretty much lack of color.

I can't stand this! How could _I_ have caused this?! I'm just a person!

"Spencer," I start. "You've got to tell me what happened here. Why are you in a suit?! And without light-up socks? And why is Carly Paris Hilton and _why_ doesn't the manager have a mole and –" I can't believe how crazed I'm acting. Actually. Strike that. I completely can.

"Please cease your babbling." He says politely. Probably too politely, if you ask me.

"Will you just tell me what's going on?" I ask desperately.

He looks thoughtful for a moment, and in that same moment, I see a Spencer trying to come up with another zany art project, from a long time ago. "Indeed." And, he's gone again. "Sit down. I believe we have a lot to discuss."

"No kidding." I mumble.

So far, this isn't turning out like I expected.

I make my way over to their couch and sit down, hearing a squeak. There's plastic on the couch apparently.

He takes a seat in this weird-looking armchair next to the couch and sighs. "I need your help, Sam."

I raise my eyebrow. "With what?"

"Carly." He answers. "I just can't get through to her. And maybe now that you're back, _you_ can."

"I don't even know what I'm supposed to get through to her about!" I tell him, annoyed. "Just…start from the beginning."

"Very well."

* * *

_The six months after Sam's leaving were the loneliest for Carly Shay._

_Her best friend was gone, her other best friend…well…wasn't him anymore, and iCarly was slowly falling apart. And soon it would._

_She approached his locker, cautiously. "Freddie?"_

_"Uh huh?"_

_She looked at him, and who he was now. She couldn't believe what he used to be. "We can't keep this up. It's not the same without –"_

_"We don't need her." He glared and slammed his locker. "The show is called i__**Carly**__, after all."_

_"Face it, Freddie." She smiled sadly. "It's not the same. Stop denying it."_

_"I will deny it all I want, thank you very much!" He was a wreck, she could tell. He wasn't so neat in his studies anymore. His grades were taking a slow but steady fall._

_"Look, I miss her too." Carly sighed again. "But…well…maybe she's just busy with all her stardom stuff. Maybe she'll answer our emails soon."_

_"I don't miss her!" he grumbled loudly. "My life's been __**awesome**__ without her! And I mean it!"_

_"Oh please, will you just agree with me here?!" she started losing her temper. He'd been like this for months and months. And she was growing very tired of it._

_"Maybe when you stop being so self-absorbed!" he yelled. The look in his expression changed. "Wait, I didn't mean –"_

_"Just forget it." Carly yelled. "If you want to be so angry, then __**fine**__! Be angry! Meanwhile, I'm gonna actually go live my life! Tough noodles if it doesn't involve iCarly __**or**__ you anymore."_

_And she ran before Freddie could say anything else._

_Carly Shay rounded a corner and came face-to-face with one of the stuck-up divas at her school that's she had never actually bothered to talk to._

_"Hello Carly."_

_She narrowed her eyes. "What, Tamara?"_

_Tamara took out a nail file, and began filing her hot pink nails. "Heard your conversation with that dork. Way to ditch him, __**verrrry**__ smart of you."_

_"Oh, yeah, 'cause you totally know the meaning of smart." Carly rolled her eyes and tried to walk by, but was stopped by Tamara and her posse, who seemed to come out of nowhere._

_"We can help you, you know," Tamara smirked. "We heard what you said, about wanting to live." They suddenly had her attention._

_"Oh, really?"_

_"Of course." Tamara flipped her hair to the side. "We go to parties all the time. Lots of celebrities…hot guys…" Carly stared long and hard at the group of girls. They were all clones of each other, and maybe they were obnoxious…_

_But they were a part of something. And Carly hadn't been a part of something in a long time. "You can join us tonight, if you want."_

_Carly smirked. "Name a time."_

* * *

"You kept Carly level-headed." Spencer explains. "You were rebellious and therefore gave Carly responsibility. As your friend and sort of a mom." I nod, lost for words. Well. Can you blame me? "Once you left, so did that leveled head. And once you left, and I mean, _really_ left her life…it all fell apart, and she changed." He looks sad for a moment. "She started acting like the biggest brat, spending money like crazy, going to concert after concert and mall after mall and party after party. At some point, I needed to shape up and try to be a role model for her. Hence…" He gestured to himself. "I went back to law school for a while, and took classes throughout the whole summer and graduated early. I left my art and everything else behind. It was what was best for Carly. My previous silly antics were the last thing she needed."

I've ruined so many lives. And now, I suddenly wish I never came here.

I don't belong here anymore. Maybe I belong back in Hollywood. Maybe I'm supposed to be faking smiles, signing autographs, and losing myself day after day.

Look what I did. Maybe I wasn't even supposed to _meet_ them.

"I didn't mean to." I say quietly, my head bowed. "I just wanted…I just…and then…"

"Your excuse is simple." He says. "You thought you could find a beginning in that end, did you not?"

"Yeah." I smirk sadly. "But I did find a beginning. Just not the one I wanted, you know?"

"I see." Spencer nods. "How long do you plan to stay?"

"I…I don't know."

"You're not very good at planning, are you?"

"No, not really."

"Good to know that hasn't changed, then." He stands up. "You're welcome to stay here until you're ready to leave. I'll just have to talk to Carly and…"

_Ready… _My eyes widened. _Freddie! _"Spencer, Freddie still lives across the hall, right?"

"Freddie? Fre –" _Oh my god, I can't believe I forgot. I've gotta see him, I don't care what he's turned into, that stupid dork. _I run out the door. "Wait, Sam! Sam! You don't want to –"

"Look, I've got to do this." I tell him.

"But –"

I block out what he says and breathe deeply before knocking on the door.

_"You know, they say when a girl constantly rips on a guy, it really just means she has a crush on him!"_

_"But I wasn't ripping on a guy. I was ripping on you."_

_**"You wanna kiss me?!"**_

_**"Kiss you?! I'd rather –" He looked at me expectantly. I rolled my eyes. "Not do that at this time… but thank you for your kind offer…"**_

_"Come here, Freddie!!"_

_"Get away from me Sam!" Footsteps. "Sam?! What are you gonna - ?" __**Crash.**__ "Ah!"_

_Freddie fell out of his apartment room and crawled across the floor and into Carly's apartment like a little dog, Carly and I right behind him._

_He stood up and brushed himself off angrily. "That was assault!"_

_**"Freddie…you're just as important to iCarly as we are…"**_

No one answers, but the door is unlocked, so I just…walk in.

* * *

_"Sam, I can't talk now!" Freddie said, panicking, as he spotted his friend in the halls of Ridgeway. "I just got a call…my cousin got attacked by a rabid poodle!"_

_"Oh, quit whining, it was me." Sam said, rolling her eyes._

_"Aw man! Again?" Freddie whined. "What's next? My aunt being run over by buffalos?"_

_"No!" Sam argued. "Uh, that was my backup. Look, I've gotta talk to you."_

_He crossed his arms. "Okay, sure, I'm listening…"_

_"Remember on iCarly a few days ago," she started. Suddenly, she was really nervous. "When I was acting all goofy and singing?"_

_"Yeah." Freddie said, confused, wondering where this was going. "I remember."_

_"Well, see…" she shifted in position and looked at the ground. "These two producers called…they want me to move up to Hollywood and star in this musical movie type thing." She looked up to meet with his eyes. She couldn't read them. "And I said yes."_

_He put his hands in his pockets. After a while, he said "When are you leaving?" The question was asked quietly…waiting._

_"A week." She stated. "Seven days."_

_"Well…" he looked down again. "Good riddance, I guess."_

_And he walked away. And so did she._

* * *

I wish I hadn't.

"Freddie, it's –" I stop and my eyes widen.

Because right before my eyes, Freddie is kissing…is that _Valerie_?

They break apart, shocked by the disturbance, and he looks my way.

* * *

**A/N: I think I've topped my evil cliffhanger from before. Oops?**

**There are a couple of hints towards Freddie's change, why it happened, yada yada, in this chapter. If you're a really really good reader, you might've seen something that someone said that confused you. Not saying what, though:)**

**Oh, if you were confused, those little bits and pieces were all Sam's memories as she raced to that door. Pretty intense.**

**Heh, for some reason, the last scene reminded me of the Zoey 101 episode "Surprise."**

**By the way, were you surprised by Carly's change? Some people PMed me and asked if Carly was going to be all morbid and rebellious and punk. I just can't picture that happening though…hmm.**

**Review?**

**-Colors**


	7. Chapter 6

Summary: So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving

**Summary: **So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving.

**Disclaimer: **iDon't Own iCarly or any of it's characters. Only the ones I make up:)

**iRemember**

**Chapter Six**

He just continues to stare as I drop my bag in shock. The photo album falls out and opens, face down.

It's sort of like…he can't or doesn't believe I'm actually there.

So all I can really do is stare right back.

I stare at him; at him with Valerie, at his eyes, which don't seem as happy as they used to be. His appearance, physically, hasn't changed much. His clothes aren't very dorky (he's wearing a white T-shirt and black basketball shorts…I know, weird), and his hair is messy, but you can still tell it's Freddie…or what's left of Freddie.

The funny thing is, I think whatever happened to him is _more_ drastic than what happened to Carly. The image of him and Valerie kissing keeps playing and replaying in my mind…and, I'll regret saying this, but it hurts.

The Freddie I knew was _hurt_ by Valerie; was used by the stupid girl. There's no way that girl loves him, and I don't care what his stupid motive is. I kind of feel replaced... I thought…

Well, it doesn't really matter what I thought. Here's what I _think_;

Right now, _I'm_ the one who's here, and _he's_ the one who's gone.

He finally opens his mouth to say something, and I swear I've never felt so nervous in my whole life. I can sing on stage, make speeches, and withstand thousands of fans screaming their heads off, but this? Too much.

"Sam?" he questions softly. He has this look on his face…sort of like the expression you get when you remember a dream you had a while ago. Something during your day just happens and triggers the memory. Sometimes, it's a bit shocking…like now.

"Eep!" Valerie screeched, and hops off their couch. I inwardly groan. "Oh my gosh! You're Samantha Puckétte! Can I have your autograph?!" It's so like her to not remember that I'm actually Sam Puckett.

I stare at her, annoyed. "No…"

She gapes, and then rolls her eyes. "Well…_fine_. I didn't want it anyway. What are you doing here?"

"You know, I'm not really sure, now that I think about it." The stupid hurt I'm feeling increases. I can't take it! I need to be tough, like I'd be if I wasn't some shallow movie star. I look over at Freddie and walk out of the room.

"Why didn't you tell me you knew _Samantha Puckétte_?" I hear Valerie whisper excitedly at Freddie.

"Because I don't." I hear him sigh. "Well, not anymore…look, I've gotta go deal with something. Can I talk to you later, cupcake?" _Ew. Cupcake? More like upchuck!_

"Alright. Bye, my Freddilicious!" Okay, I _really_ feel like puking right now. _Freddilicious?_ Is she kidding?

She walks out and stares at me. "You know, you're cooler in the magazines." Then she walks down the hallway and turns a corner.

I sort of want to go home now. Where I belong. Even though I don't have a place like that anymore.

Freddie steps out of his room and closes the door. "Why are you here?"

"Probably the same reason you're dating Valerie." I roll my eyes. I won't look him in the eyes again I refuse to. I've never been so confused before in my whole life. "Trying to find a beginning through an old end. You told me you hated her…" The last thing I say, I say really quietly. 'Cause I can feel myself shrinking under his gaze.

_Stupid Freddie_.

* * *

_"Dork, you gonna finish that?" _

_Freddie Benson sat at Carly's counter after they had watched Valerie's webshow crash and burn, staring glumly at the watermelon on his plate. Carly was in between the two of them as they ate the fruit, but went to the bathroom, no longer acting as a wall to blockade their killing of each other. He slid the plate over to the hungry blonde. "No, go ahead…"_

_Sam raised an eyebrow. "You're…not gonna defend your watery fruit rights?"_

_Freddie shrugged and looked away. Truthfully, he was bummed about Valerie. He was bummed that she had used her, that Carly didn't seem to be jealous when they were dating like he'd hoped, and Sam didn't seem to care that he was sad. But whatever, he expected it._

_"I'm not in the mood to argue right now."_

_"This is about Valerie?" He was a bit surprised she'd figured it out._

_"Yeah, I'm kind of bummed out." He sighed. "I never really liked her though…I just kind of liked her liking me. But you guys were right…she's just not a good person."_

_"Okay look, I know I don't normally do this…" Sam turned to face him. "But listen up." Freddie looked very curious as Sam continued. "Everyone knows you're a dork. But you're a good guy. So don't let some skunkbag convince you otherwise. Are we clear?"_

_Freddie was utterly shocked at this point. Sam, actually saying something nice? About __**him**__?_

_"Yeah, we're clear." He gave her a small smile._

_"Alright, in that case…" Sam smirked and grabbed his plate. "I'll be eating this now."_

* * *

"I never said I hated her." He shot back confidently. "I really care about her now. She's awesome. People change. You would know."

It's like everything the kid says spins my world around. It's not fair. He's being so cruel; could he be making up for all the times I was cruel to him?

I was never _really_ cruel, though. I knew when to be serious. Maybe. I don't know.

I don't remember.

_Think of something to say, Sam! Something witty! _"Alright look, I just came back here to see Carly. I missed her. And _only_ her. But I'm not leaving for a while, so if you have a problem with that, then don't talk to me for all I care." I glare. That'll do for now.

"Fine then!"

"Fine!" He turns around, walks to his door, and slams it shut.

I guess that's all this adventure has been so far. A door slammed shut.

He hates me. I can't stand the thought of Freddie hating me, and to be honest, I don't know why. He hated me before I left, didn't he? I mean, the stupid dork didn't even _talk_ to me! And then he didn't say goodbye. And then he sent me some random email two years later about how Sam is gone forever. What he didn't, and doesn't, realize, is that she's not _dead_. Gone doesn't always have to mean forever.

Ugh, even though he's some slacker, Valerie-loving freak, here's one thing that hasn't changed; how hard his head is.

Isn't it kind of pathetic how we hadn't seen each other in three years and still ended up arguing?

"Great to see you, Freddie." I say to the air, even though, I really haven't seen _Freddie_ yet. Just, that guy...who looks like him, but looks can be deceiving. I knock on the Shay's apartment door. After a few seconds, Spencer opens it and lets me in.

"Did I not tell you?"

"He's gone bonkers!" I shout. And I mean it, too. "Doesn't his mom disapprove of all this? His hair is messy, his clothes are…cool, he's making out with some obnoxious chick, and - !"

"Mrs. Benson doesn't speak to him anymore." Spencer explains sadly. "Not a word. He's disappointed her beyond belief. It's hard to believe how low his grades have gotten…"

"Freddie? Bad grades? Ha, good one, Spencer. I thought you didn't joke anymore!"

"I'm serious."

And then I just stare at him.

Because I suddenly realize, that, when I left here, the place I never thought to treasure, and the people I never knew to hold on to…not only did I _leave_, but I destroyed everything that was behind me. Carly is no longer Carly. Spencer is no longer Spencer.

Freddie is no longer a dork.

But _why_ would me leaving change him? And if he really did miss me like he said in his email…why did he wait two years to tell me so?

My head hurts. There are just way too many questions in there, and way too little answers.

"Is anything the same?" I finally manage to spit out, maybe a little quieter than I wanted to.

Spencer starts thinking, like he's actually considering my question. Then he puts his index finger up in the air. "No one has been in the iCarly studio for about two years. Actually, that's where you can stay, if you're planning to stay. Third floor, if you forgot."

"No, I didn't forget. Thanks Spencer." This would be hard, considering it's probably filled with cobwebs, dust, and ghosts of the past.

No, not _actua_l ghosts. Jeez. No one died in there! Except maybe a dream. Sorry, kind of morbid, but yeah.

I step into the elevator and think of all the times I've been up and down it. Fighting with Carly, finding Poachy the chick…who knew an elevator would mean so much to a person.

I don't know…I guess it's just…everything I remember, I wish was real again.

The door opens to reveal the iCarly set.

Just like I remembered it, in a way.

* * *

_"I don't get these instructions!" Sam complained, holding up a piece of paper that was supposed to help her install some lights in the studio. "Can't the dork do it?!"_

_"I happen to be installing all the computer software!" Freddie shouted from behind his computer cart._

_"Ugh," Sam attempted to read them over again. "I don't even think they're in English! It's like dorkenese! This is so stupid."_

_"Sam, you always call stuff you don't understand 'stupid.'" Carly sighed. "Here, let me look…" Carly read the directions over. "Eh, we'll do it later." She threw the paper onto the floor._

_"Ah! Spider!!" Freddie suddenly screamed. "Ow!" Apparently, he had seen a spider, freaked out, and injured himself in the process. He scrambled up, brushed himself off, and looked over at the two girls. "Uh…I don't like spiders."_

_"Really now?" Carly laughed._

_"I bet the feeling's mutual." Sam mocked. Freddie huffed._

_"You know, this is gonna be really cool." Carly said, smiling. "Tomorrow could change everything; iCarly could change everything…"_

_"I know." Freddie said, pondering it._

_Sam nodded. "Yeah, definitely." She smirked. "Anyone want ham?"_

* * *

The car and Spencer's seat is still there. The door still reads 'iCarly.' Freddie's camera is even still in here. I guess he left it behind.

But really, walking into this studio is the best welcoming I've gotten all day. Nothing but happy memories in here. And I mean it.

Spencer walks in after a few moments, carrying a blow-up mattress and a blanket and pillow. "Here are a few sleeping items you might need. Oh, and I'm cooking brussel sprouts with fat-free rice once Carly shows up from wherever she may be." Then he leaves. He's been nice to me, which is a plus. He was sort of a brother to me back when I was, well, me. He's probably helping me because he thinks I'll end up helping Carly.

Ha, _riiight_. She doesn't even believe I'm here.

Kind of ironic, if you think about it, 'cause most people assumed that I was the one influencing Carly negatively, and she was the one acting as a role model for me.

Look how she ended up once I left.

"Welp, might as well get settled." I say to the air. I clutch my shoulder, planning on grabbing hold of my bag, but instead, it's just my shoulder.

_Where did I put my bag?_ I wonder, raising an eyebrow. _I know I brought it into the building…I probably just left it downstairs. I'll get it later…_

I set up the mattress, and suddenly, I find myself plopped onto the mattress. My eyes are heavy. I guess I'm more tired than I thought I was…I mean, I'd only had, what, five hours of sleep?

So I go to sleep, the best place in the world to escape a reality...

* * *

**A/N: Hey, I hope you liked this chapter; I'm a bit unsure of it. But I figured, Freddie and Sam wouldn't really know what to say to each other…right? I mean, would you? So they do what they remember made sense; argue.**

**The 'Sam-calls-everything-she-doesn't-understand-stupid' thing makes sense, if you look back on stuff in this chapter. That's actually what I do, too:) That's where I got the idea.**

**I will be updating by Zoey story next (Four Corners), simply because it hasn't been updated in a while, and my oneshot idea is still formulating.**

**Review, please?**

**-Colors**


	8. Chapter 7

Summary: So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving

**Summary: **So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving.

**Disclaimer: **iDon't Own iCarly or any of it's characters. Only the ones I make up:)

**iRemember**

**Chapter Seven**

_It's as if she woke up one morning, sick of it all. Sam had always been one to grow bored of something easily. She thought she wanted this; all this fame, fortune, and publicity. She thought she was strong enough to handle it all. And you know what? Maybe she was. But did that mean she should __**have**__ to?_

_She had been living in California, singing until her throat ached and rehearsing until her head was about to explode, for a total of six months. Which was about five months, three weeks, and three days too long, in her book._

_So she woke up that foggy Sunday morning in her large Hollywood house with a decision made._

_**I'm done with this**__. And Sam wouldn't take no for an answer._

_She hopped out of her giant white and red bed, put on a blue Abercrombie zip-up sweatshirt (probably the least girly thing she owned at that point) over her PJs, combed her hair, and rushed downstairs to the first floor (her room was on the fourth), her heart pounding._

_"Mom?" she called quietly, as she entered their huge green and white kitchen. "You in here?"_

_"Where else would I be?" her mom shouted back. Sam entered further to find her ignorant mother eating a huge plate of fancy French toast like it was her job. "You've got to try this toast, dear. It's amazing!"_

_Sam sat down next to her only alive parent and stared at her blankly, hoping she'd catch on to the serious matter ahead. "I'm finished."_

_"With breakfast?" Miranda Puckett questioned absentmindedly between mouthfuls. "Wow, well, that's a shock. I'd think you would jump at the opportunity to eat something normal –"_

_"No, not with breakfast!" Sam slammed her fist on the table, making Miranda jump and her glass of milk spill halfway across the table. Her mom stared, dumbfounded. "I'm finished with this; with living here, being told what to wear, who to talk to, and how to act! It's not me, and I hate it!" Sam breathed inwardly and calmed herself down, an annoying but occasionally useful technique she'd learned in yoga classes. "I did this 'cause I liked singing, but I hate it now. I want out."_

_Miranda stared hard at her daughter and took a bite of her French toast. "I don't understand. You're famous, Sammy! It should make you so happy and -"_

_"Look at me, mom!" she shouted, and grabbed her hair, which at the time was still curly, but smothered to death in gel. "Look at my hair and my outfit, and my freaking eyes, for cheese sake! Do I __**look**__ happy to you?!"_

_After a few moments, Sam's mother shook her head, sighing. Then she looked up and spoke, "We did this all because I thought it would make your life happier. But if it's not, we must end it." They smiled. "Even though I'd have to give up this insanely good food!" The two and last Puckett's laughed together, just as their doorman came in._

_"Jaryn and Malcolm are at the door." Michael announced. "Shall I send them off or bring them in?"_

_"Bring 'em in." Sam requested nervously. She turned to her mom. "I've gotta do this on my own. Be right back." She followed Michael out of the kitchen, past their dining room and into their den, where the two managers she'd grown to hate sat nonchalantly._

_"I've got something to say, guys." She came in, her arms crossed. "And it can't wait."_

_"Well, it has to!" Malcolm said, all peppy and quick. He stood up. "Samantha, we've been looking online…" He turned to Michael. "Leave."_

_Michael scoffed when his back was turned and Sam giggled. Michael was gone._

_"Yes, so, as Malcolm was saying," Jaryn continued. His over comb really annoyed Sam as he spoke. "We were checking online comments about you, and well, you're doing okay, but we just want to make –"_

_"A few changes?" Sam asked, a fake smile on her face, which immediately turned into a frown, making her comment very sarcastic. "I don't think so, you stupid nubs."_

_"Do you have the list, Malcolm?"_

_"Yeah, right here." Malcolm reached into his suit pocket (he always wore suits everywhere he went, while Jaryn just wore jeans and weird looking shirts) and took out a piece of paper. After clearing his throat loudly, he read it aloud. "We don't feel you should go on the internet anymore. You may check your email, but as we've said before, Jaryn and I get notified whenever an email is sent, and we check it over to make sure the email or emails will benefit you in your viewing and/or replying. Just…don't go on the internet anymore besides that, like Google or Zaplook or any web shows."_

_Sam clenched her fists and bit her tongue. Even though she knew about the email rule already…just the way he said it, and the way they were limiting her all the more, put her in a very strong punching mood. But she wouldn't speak. Not yet._

_"Second," Malcolm continued. "We're going to start straightening your hair for public appearances."_

_"We feel the curly hair is too…rebellious." Jaryn chimed in. "It could send misleading messages to your fans."__** I'd like to send a misleading message to your head…with my foot**__. How could they take away her curly hair? It was her thing! But in a way, Sam wasn't surprised at all. She braced herself for more "good news."_

_"Third," Jaryn held up three fingers on his right hand. "Research shows that actresses with foreign background are given more publicity. We understand you are from America, but to gain press recognition, your last name is now…Puckétte!"_

_"You can't change my last name!" I shouted angrily, not able to control myself. "I'm not some Barbie doll you can just change when I'm not what you want!"_

_"Quiet Samantha, you haven't heard the rest of the list." Malcolm hissed harshly._

_"Right, and you know what?" Sam hissed right back, her anger rising like smoke. "I'm not going to hear it! Because…I quit!" And then she ran. She ran with the speed of everything she had and wanted and wished for towards the door. Her mom would find her. Her stuff could be shipped. Right now, she just wanted to go home before –_

_She was just about to grab the doorknob when a strong arm grabbed her tiny shoulder and whipped it around, slamming her into the door. Scowling at her was Malcolm, looking scarier than she'd ever seen. "You walk out that door, and I will sue you so badly, you'll have to sell your own mother!" He put his angry face really close to hers. Her heart pounded fast. It looked like he was going to hit her. "We've got a contact, you ungrateful piece of trash, and it states, and I quote, 'Client must do whatever either manager says'! So you better not pull a stunt like this again. You will say what we tell you to, wear what we tell you to, and go wherever the heck we send you to! And if you don't, well…you don't even wanna know! Are we clear, Samantha Puckétte?"_

_Sam was angrier than she'd ever been in her whole life. She knew that, for now, she'd have to listen. He was scary. He could destroy her in a second. She shoved him off of her, and grinned a fake grin again. "We're clear." __**This isn't over**__._

_He smiled and the desire to punch him increased. "Good, now…go tell mommy dearest that you love it here and want to stay. Or else." Jaryn came out of nowhere and nodded solemnly. They both exited through the door that Sam longed to pass through and get away from._

_But she went to her mom and told her exactly that._

* * *

A pillow hits my face, waking me from my nightmare. When I don't dream about my old life, I dream about when it officially ended. It's scary; I can still hear Malcolm's angry voice ringing in my ears.

I pull the pillow off my head and look around, suddenly remembering where I am and what I had done. I still can't believe it.

I look to the left to see Carly, wearing the same thing from earlier that day (my guess is it's around dinnertime).

"Spencer told me to, like, get you up and stuff." She says, annoyed, as if it's _such_ a burden to throw a pillow at someone. "You're just lucky I didn't break a nail."

"Uh, thanks, I guess." I sit up and give her a small, uncertain smile. Well, what else am I to do? Get up and scream 'snap out of it?' Actually, that's not much of a bad idea. But whatever.

She flips her blonde hair, which for some reason, looks darker, probably 'cause of the lighting in here. "Whatevs. Spencer made dinner, if you, like, wanted it or something."

"Would it be okay if I took a shower first?" I ask carefully. "And, um, I kind of need a change of clothes, so could I –"

She scoffs. "I don't care." And then she's gone. But she was gone _wayyy_ before, so I'm not as affected, I guess.

I had been to Carly's enough times to remember where the Shay's keep their towels and where there bathroom is. In a way, their apartment was more of a home to me than anywhere else I've lived. I've had so many fun times sitting on their couch watching _Girly Cow_ with Carly, helping Spencer with his sculptures, doing 'Wake Up Spencer' segments with Freddie…and what did I do at my actual, physical home?

Honestly, not much.

Ever since that plane crash took my dad from me and my mom, she's gone out of whack. Sure, she has occasional moments of decent parenting, but well, most often she's eating more than I am, yelling at cats, and driving me to Carly's when she wasn't in the mood to be a parent. Yeah, kind of rude, but I liked Carly's place better, anyway.

The whole fame thing definitely made _her_ happier, though. She had come up to me one day a couple months ago and had said, "It's pretty awesome having people be parents for me." I know she was joking…but still. It kind of hurt, but at least I was one burden off her shoulder. Which is why I didn't tell her I was leaving. I hope she figures out why I left, and that it's not because I don't love her, you know? It was for _me_, plus the extra bonus of me being out of her hair.

It was just something I had to, and still have to do.

Towel in hand, I walk into the bathroom and take my shower. I gotta say, I'm not used to taking such a simple shower. Usually, it's some straightening, shining product of other, and, like, five hundred other products, along with soap from France and peach body lotion and other ridiculously fake products. And then, I would have my hair blown out, straightened and gelled until a headache grew.

Now I'm just…taking a shower. After ten minutes or so, I step out, change into some of Carly's old clothes (green shorts and a black and white T-shirt) and stare at myself, hard, in the mirror.

With a smile, I realize my damp hair is curling. And it's freaky – I don't remember the last time I saw myself without makeup on…Of course, I don't wear it to bed or anything, but I'm usually so busy running around that I never really see myself once it's taken off. There's a difference between looking and seeing, you know. A _big_ difference.

I close the bathroom door behind me with a click and take the stairs down to the first floor. I'm about to go down the last set of stairs when I hear voices from downstairs.

"Spencer, I can't believe you're letting her stay here!" Carly shouts. I frown. I mean, really, it's ridiculous how harsh she's being…I mean, if she knew I was forced to change… "Why do you hate me?!" Now she's whining.

"Quiet, Carly." Spencer commands. "I don't hate you. I'm not like dad, who will just do whatever you want when you start crying. You need Sam –"

"Sam's gone!" she yells. "Like, really gone! It's, like, not negotiable and –"

"Stop acting like a brat." He says sternly. "Sam is your friend."

"_Was_."

"Maybe things will change…" Spencer suggests hopefully.

"Oh yeah, 'cause, like, that's the first thing I need, right? More change." I can just see Carly rolling her eyes. "Are you really expecting me to forgive her? I'm fine with the way everything is now."

"Oh, you mean acting like the whole world revolves around you?"

"It's called _living_."

"It's _called_ selfish, Carly." I peek around to see Spencer shaking his head.

"So I don't have the right to be selfish and she does?" Carly argued loudly. "Leaving was the most selfish thing she could've ever done…'cause she brought all the normal with her." She sighs. "You know what? I don't care. Ugh, you're lame, don't talk to me."

"Go eat your brussel sprouts." Spencer says calmly, pointing to the table.

"Fine." She flips her hair and stomps over to the table.

I sort of feel numb now. And sadly, not surprised, you know? I mean, I already knew she'd react in that way, considering the rude awakening she'd given me.

After a minute, I decide I should enter, so I do. They both turn to stare at me. "Uh, hi."

"Hi Samantha," Spencer greets awkwardly, after a few moments. Carly's just acting like I'm not there. Well, _fine_, Carly, two can play at that game. "Would you like some brussel sprouts?"

"No, thanks." I say, trying not to be rude, since he's been the only nice person so far. "Actually, um…do you maybe have…bacon?"

Wow, I sound so dumb for asking. Like, really, I do. But I also haven't had bacon in a _looong_ time. Which, in my opinion, is even dumber.

I could've sworn I see a small smile on Carly's face, but the image goes away so quickly that I can't even register it as real or not.

"I'm terribly sorry, but we do not." Spencer says apologetically.

"Bacon is gross." Carly says meanly, not looking up.

"It's alright." I assure Spencer, ignoring Carly's awfully untrue statement. I sit down, across from Carly, and now, I'm very much regretting it. Way too much tension in this vicinity.

Spencer leaves to go borrow salt from the Benson's, so it's just Carly and me.

_Maybe I should say something…but what?_ "So I saw Miss Briggs today."

"So what? I see her everyday…" Carly rolls her eyes and stabs at her brussel sprouts.

Alright, I've got to do something about this.

"Look, Carly, I know you're mad, but –"

"I don't want your apologies!" she shouts, probably a little too quickly. I jump. "As far as I'm concerned, we're not friends anymore."

"But if you would just listen for a second!" I tell her, annoyed. It's not like me to react to people's anger, but I can't help it.

Carly scoffs and storms upstairs.

I frown again and stare down at my untouched brussel sprouts.

This is going to be harder than I thought.

* * *

_**To: ToughCookie101**_

_**From: iCarly08**_

_**Date Sent: December 29**__**th**__**, 2008 – 4:55 PM**_

_**Sam,**_

_**Freddie and I ended iCarly today. Just thought you would like to know.**_

_**I know there's no chance of you answering, since you haven't been answering for the past six months. But I just wanted to let you know.**_

_**I still miss you…and yeah.**_

_**Freddie has been a wreck and I think you can figure out why. Try, perhaps, when you're not posing and smiling like you always seem to be lately.**_

_**This'll be my last email to you. It was fun being your friend, and I'm sorry our friendship faded. But it wasn't me who caused it.**_

_**-Carly**_

* * *

**A/N: So huh. We've got more information on Jaryn and Malcolm and all their changes and rules. They are important, just saying.**

**Sorry that this chapter didn't deal with Sam and Freddie. I've got this all planned out though, so no worries.:)**

**I know I said I'd update Four Corners, but here's the thing. I don't write just to entertain other people. That's only part of it. I love it when people like my writing, but I also do it for me, to have fun. And writing Four Corners today didn't seem like it'd be fun. I can't just force myself to write, you know?**

**Review please!**

**-Colors**


	9. Chapter 8

Summary: So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving

**Summary: **So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving.

**Disclaimer: **iDon't Own iCarly or any of it's characters. Only the ones I make up:)

_Thoughts/flashback/emphasis_

**Email/online material**

_**Email in flashback**_

**iRemember**

**Chapter Eight**

As much as I love brussel sprouts, I decide to ruin my fun and push the plate to the side. Apparently too hard, 'cause then the plate falls on the floor and smashes.

"Aw man…" I groan to the air. At first, I was just gonna leave it there, but after how nice Spencer's been, I decide to just sweep up the dang plate.

I grab the Shay's broom from the corner of the kitchen, and a dust pan, and walk around the kitchen sweeping the pieces of glass together to one pile.

I'm really confused right now, 'cause for some reason, I can't see someone like Carly just obliterate behind a superficial mask. She was always so in control, and also one of the only things in my life that kept me from jail. Even though Spencer told me what happened, straight and honestly to my face, I can't help but think, no, _hope_, Carly's still there somewhere. She's just not visible right now. Just because you can't see something, doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Sam disappeared, but here I am. The sad thing is, hardly anyone is willing to accept it. Which _tanks_.

I throw out the shattered plate, return the broom and pan, and then I race upstairs to the iCarly studio. Man, I love this place. It's so symbolic of so many things that I can't even begin to describe them.

This might sound kind of weird, but it's sort of like my sanctuary; my shelter from all that is and all that will be. It's what _was_. It's what I miss more than anything.

You know how everyone always says, "don't live in the past"? Well, of course you don't live _in_ to past, but…I live _for_ the past. All those was's and were's and used to be's…they're what I cling on to. They're what keeps me sane or as sane as someone like me can be.

It's really good to know that the iCarly studio is still the iCarly studio. It's like all my memories packaged and flowing in one little room.

I plop down on a bean bag chair, placed right next to my blow-up mattress. I'm at a loss of what to do now. Spencer's at the Benson's, Carly's…_not_ Carly…and I don't want to just sit here and do nothing.

I look around the room, trying to find something interesting. _Spencer's car and seat…window…elevator…Freddie's laptop…closet…Um – whoa, wait! _

I quickly get up and walk over to Freddie's old laptop. It looks like it hasn't been touched in a while, and my estimate is confirmed true when I sneeze, dust blowing off of it.

It's weird…I don't think I've ever been behind this thing alone. Usually Freddie was right there…next to me…

_Oh, shut it, Sam. _I scold quickly. _What do you care? Freddie means nothing to you, and vice versa._

I shake my head, wondering why my mind keeps inching back to thoughts of that…_that_, as I open up the computer and turn it on. It makes a familiar magical, music-like sound as it loads and finally the desktop is displayed. His main picture was of Carly (he was such a stalker) last time I saw it, but now it's just blue and blank. I guess if the shoe fits, huh?

My first instinct is to go Zaplook my name, simply to be satisfied in thoroughly disobeying yet another rule of Malcolm's. So I type in "_Samantha Puckétte_" and click 'search.'

**Page 1 of 5,646,080. **Yikes.

I'm about to scroll, but the first hit, a _**Seventeen**_ article, catches my eye: **AU REVIOR, PUCKÉTTE?**

I click on it and begin to read.

**It appears as if Samantha Puckétte, age 16, known most widely as the star of movies **_**Musical's Don't Sing For You 1, 2 and 3**_**, has appeared to have gone a-wol. The rumor was recently confirmed by Jaryn Frund, who co-manages the young star's career with his brother Malcolm Frund.**

**After further investigation, we uncovered more information about Samantha's departure.**

"**Miss Puckétte was in the lobby of La Beau around midnight last Saturday." Puckétte's doorman, Michael Tyman, explained simply. "All she told me was that she had a very important matter to attend to. She said that she would be back. I only hope she had a real cause to do such a dramatic thing."**

_Oh, I did. _

**Miss Puckétte has been missing since the night she left; in total, almost twenty-four hours.**

_My gosh, they really make it seem like it's such an uproar. I haven't even been gone a day yet. How do they know I'm not just in the hotel somewhere?_

**So far, the police of California have searched the whole area, adding double security to the hotel and searching everywhere.**

_Oh, that's how._

"**We are just so concerned." Malcolm said, tearing up. "Samantha…actually, we playfully called her Sam, we were that close…is so important to my brother and me. Truly. We want her to be safe."**

I narrow my eyes, thinking of Malcolm, and how uncaring he is and how he transformed me. _What kind of garbage is he trying to pull here?! He never called me Sam! He took that name away from me! What the ham?!_

**Samantha's mother was questioned, but she outright refused to answer any questions, expect for the possible reason why Samantha would give up so much fame.**

"**She was finished." She stated firmly. And that was that.**

I smile slightly, knowing my mom understands where I am. And possibly even who I am.

**Samantha's managers are offering a one million dollar reward to anyone who can supply them with accurate information on the current whereabouts of their star. Click the link below for information on Frund Bro's email address, phone number and address.**

My heart starts beating really fast. That's a _lot_ of money. What if Freddie or Carly rat me out? I mean, hopefully no one has seen this stupid article, but…well, Miss Briggs hates my guts. And with that money she could _buy_ Randy Jackson. I can't believe how stupid I was to blow my cover like that!

Suddenly I'm feeling really woozy, so I hit the back button. I just need to take my mind off of it. Why would Miss Briggs read _**Seventeen**_, anyway? She's more likely to read, I dunno, _**Fifty And Cranky**_.

I breathe in and out, deciding not to scroll through all the rest of the articles. They are probably more; tons more. I click the link at the top of Zaplook labeled "**Last**."

And zap, I'm at the last page of my search. There are three items.

The last one is iCarly dot com.

At first, I think I'm seeing things. 'Cause I'm pretty sure Freddie took the site down…didn't he? I mean, iCarly is done with. So why is it still up here?

Maybe he just forgot, and it's been left untouched since, and made into yet another used to be. It's still weird though.

Nonetheless, I click on it, and the iCarly page pops up.

I raise an eyebrow and frown, realizing that iCarly continued until six months after I left. That's a total of twenty-four web casts that I didn't take part in.

And for some reason, I'm not really in the mood to watch them all…to watch iCarly, a show the three of us cared about so much, together, crash, burn and fade into nothing.

I search 'last episode before Sam leaves' in the search bar, and a single result pops up. Funny how I was there, yet it's the one episode I want to see the most.

'Cause, if anything, that show is what finally convinced me to leave.

Or I guess you could indirectly blame something else…

* * *

_"Okay, well…" Carly said uncertainly. "Looks like that's it…"_

_"Yeah." I smile. "Hey, thanks for all the comments, guys. It's really nice of you." The whole iCarly had been dedicated to Sam…they had a ham-eating contest, shout-outs to Sam on the Blab Cam, and a bunch of other Sam-themed stuff._

_The whole time, Freddie remained silent. He wouldn't look at her. He just stared at his computer screen and positioned his camera when necessary._

_"iCarly's not over." Carly told them sadly. "Freddie, Spencer and I are going to continue it. Sam's off to become a…__**superstar**__!"_

_"Hey, don't go all crazy." Sam laughed. "I'll still be me!"_

_"Well, we'll miss you, and I know our audience will, too." Carly glanced over at Freddie. "FYI, Freddie, I also mean our __**studio**__ audience."_

_"We don't have a - !" Freddie began to argue, and then he stopped. "I think I'll go home now." He stormed out and slammed the door. It echoed._

_"Well, I'm Carly." She said, confused._

_"And I'm Sam." Sam said quietly, her confidence dropping to the floor. "See ya on the big screen."_

* * *

Sometimes I wish I ran after him. But then I mentally slap myself, because it wouldn't make any sense. I don't run after people, okay?

No, flying to Seattle to find my old friends does _not_ count. Too bad.

I'm curious as to what comment the iCarly viewers left afterward. I never did find out. So I scroll down.

**BabyG66 said:**

**Aw Sam, I'm going to miss you! Good luck with stardom. Don't ever change!**

**TMAC08 said:**

**Wow, Freddie, you're a jerk.**

**Miss you, Sam.**

**HannahRoxYourSox4 said:**

**The ham thing made me laugh. I'll keep watching, but iCarly won't be the same. It kinda looks like Freddie's leaving, too. Emotionally…yeah, I'm deep.**

**WakeyWakey890 said:**

**I was kind of hoping for a 'Wake Up Spencer' segment before Sam left. Oh well. Bye Sam, stay true.:)**

The last comment makes my eyes sting. Ugh, I'm pathetic. _Okay, maybe this was a bad idea_. I shut the laptop off and close it shut, along with its memories.

* * *

_Samantha Puckétte sat at her computer, staring in confusion at the email she just received._

_**"Please tell Sam I miss her. She's been gone for a while, and I don't know where she is.**_

_**-Freddie Benson"**_

_When was the last time she heard from Freddie Benson? About two years ago. And yet, the email still hurt._

_She hadn't thought about Freddie in the longest time, actually. She had been so occupied and boxed in, what with appearances on five hit TV shows, photo shoots, and the nearing premiere of the sequel to the sequel of her hit movie._

_And she didn't really know what to do. Something in her mind told her to check her email at that time, despite the late hour (1 AM), and all it really did was bring him back like s rush of cold air. She'd never admit it, but she agreed with Freddie. And the feeling was mutual._

_Even after so long, it was._

_This caused anger to bubble within her, and she wrapped her hand around a can of V8 (the closest thing to a soda she'd had in a while), squeezing it tightly and causing orange juice to burst from the can all over the floor. Then she threw the can to the side and shook her head for probably the tenth time, rereading those two sentences._

_What a geek. She thought to herself, trying to be reassured that nothing had changed between them, that they had always disliked each other anyway._

_So the question was…What do I write back? Should I write back at all?_

_**Freddie, **__she typed. __**Sam Puckett is…**_

_She sighed, running a hand through her straight hair. It was hopeless. There was nothing she could do, as even **she** didn't know where Sam went._

_So she shut her laptop, and then her eyes._

* * *

My eyes open and immediately shut, as lights hits my face. I hear the sound of the shower from a distance. _Why is it so dang bright in here? _They slowly reopen again, and then I remember how bright the studio is in the mornings. Light streams in naturally from the window at the back and into the entire room.

It makes you feel so hopeful, when natural light finds its way past barriers. I'm kind of jealous of it, too. I stretch and emerge from the mattress on the floor, yawning. And there's this gnawing, antsy feeling in the pit of my stomach 'cause I'm not so sure what to expect of this Sunday morning.

But it's okay; I guess you can't _always_ expect something. Sometimes, you've just got to let things fall out. Time, and how it plays out, is kind of like…the sun and the moon and the rain. No matter what, you can't stop the night from ending, or the day from beginning, or the rain from cascading down. So why try? You simply can't; it just…_happens_.

_Spencer is probably at work. I wonder if he'd mind if I took some breakfast. _I decide, probably not, as I push the door of the iCarly studio and close it behind me securely. I hear the shower screech to a halt from their downstairs bathroom, but I don't really think much of it. I'm too distracted by the feeling in my stomach that's part fear…and part hunger. _Man, am I hungry. I didn't even have dinner. Unless you count those brussel sprouts. Blech._

I'm fixing myself toast when Carly steps out of the bathroom, wearing a hot pink, glittered bathrobe, and a blue towel wrapped around her wet hair, carrying a bottle of something, probably shampoo.

She looks annoyed when she catches sight of me, so I send an annoyed glare right back.

"Great, you're still here." She rolls her eyes, continuing on her way. She also looks in a hurry, which is a bit odd.

I watch her speed by me, when something really shocking catches my eye – a lock of hair sticking out from her towel. _Brown_ hair.

My mouth drops open, and I act fast. I jump in front of her, just blocking her passageway to the stairs. I yank off the towel on her head before she can react. It falls to the ground, revealing Carly's brown hair.

I blink twice, and she gulps. _I don't understand…I'm really, really confused…_

"Carly, what - ?" She bits her lip and hands me the bottle she is carrying. There are tears brimming her eyes, and I swear to ham, my stomach drops from guilt. I take it from her.

It's blonde hair-dye. '_Guarenteed blonde locks for a full seven days' _it says.

And suddenly, it hits me.

"You…" I start slowly. "You don't like being this way…do you?" I feel like my voice echoes all through the silent apartment. It's wavering, because I can finally see my best friend. She's scared. She's hurt. She's hiding.

Like I was. And you know how I said a while back that Carly and I, right now, are so similar, yet so separated?

The only things that's separating us…is _us_. We should be helping each other; it's all we've got.

"Do you like being _that_ way?" she points to a magazine on the table by the stairs, which just so happens to have a big, glamorous headshot of Samantha Puckétte. I shake my head.

"Well then." She looks away, and she looks so defeated that it makes me wonder how we ever let each other lose ourselves in such a way.

"I think we've got some stuff to talk about…" I tell her honestly.

She eyes the hair dye, still in my hand. "Can't I just – ?"

"No." I state. "Come on, let's go upstairs."

* * *

**A/N: -Gasp- In case you didn't get it completely, Carly's been dyeing her hair blonde. I'm not sure whether or not you guys see the significance in this, but if you do, let me know! I love it when people can decipher my hidden meanings.**

**Random iCarly quote of the day:**

**Sam: If you were a country, you'd be called El Salva**_**dork**_**.**

**Lol**

**Review, please!**

**-Colors**


	10. Chapter 9

Summary: So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving

**Summary: **So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving.

**Disclaimer: **iDon't Own iCarly or any of it's characters. Only the ones I make up:)

**iRemember**

**Chapter Nine**

"I don't think I've been in here since the show –" Carly stops, frowning. "Um, for a long time."

We're upstairs in the studio, and it's funny; I feel like we should be planning iCarly or something. Unfortunately, we're not.

"It hasn't changed a lot." I tell her. _It's probably the only thing that hasn't_. I glance at the hair dye bottle, still in my hand. I look up at her, my best friend. She's still there, and I take comfort in that fact. I just need to, you know, dig her out. "So can you tell me what happened?"

I'm thinking about the last time we fought – about three and a half years ago, over concert tickets and a T-shirt.

_"Our viewers don't like it when friends fight…" Freddie said to us, more serious than I've ever seen him. "And neither do I."_

_I looked over at Carly, and then Freddie and I couldn't help but tear up. They both meant so much to me._

_"Aw, Sam, you're crying…" Carly pointed out, quietly._

_"No!" I shot back, wiping my eyes. "Freddie's just…" __**the best guy friend I could ever want. **__I mean, really, no one else would put up with my antics and still be my friend at the end of the day. "Such a dork that it makes me emotional sometimes…" He gaped. I turned to Carly._

_Just like she said, this all started because we wanted to do something nice for each other. I was surrounded my so much care, and to be honest, I felt kinda undeserving._

_"I'm sorry." She said sincerely, and I smiled._

_"I'm sorry." And we hugged._

If only life was easy like that right now.

Carly sighs and looks around the room. I guess this must be hard for her. I mean, after acting so different for two and a half years. "I don't know where to start…"

"Just talk." I answer, holding up the blonde dye. "Why would you pretend to be a blonde bimbo? I don't get it. That's not the Carly I remember."

"Oh, like it really matters to you!" she suddenly cries out. I jump back, taken aback by her outburst. "You left, and you didn't even care that by leaving, you took away my brother and my only other best friend! I had to watch three of the most important people in my life change before my eyes. My best friend was reduced to pictures in magazines, my other friend lost his mind, and Spencer acts like a librarian! All because you left!"

I bite my lip because I know she's right. "But I –"

"You didn't even realize how important you were to us!" she continues, fuming. I wonder how long that anger has been held inside. Three years ago, when Carly got angry, she let everybody know. There were no secrets. I bite my tongue and continue to listen, 'cause it's important that I hear everything. "It was like, you were there, and then you were gone! My best friend just ditched me for fame!"

"You told me you'd be okay with it!" I yell at her. Okay, so I have a short temper. So what?

"And I was," Carly shoots back angrily. "Until you decided to add an accent to your name and ignore all our emails!"

"Our? What do you mean, _our_?" I ask. I only received emails from Carly the whole time, except that one email from Freddie. And honestly, how was I supposed to respond to that? 'Dear Freddie, even though I act like an obnoxious brat, have straight hair, a French name, and ignored my best friend, I'm still a kid _just like you_! Oh, and by the way, I think I'…forget it. There's no way I'd be able to find words. So I didn't. I just…_didn't_.

"See, this is exactly what I'm talking about!" she throws her perfectly manicured nails up in the air. I just stare, and suddenly it's really quiet. It's like the kind of quiet in the movies, where people are trying to contemplate what to say. The difference is that, in the movies, the people know what they're going to say. They've got a whole script memorized. But in real life, we actually _don't_ know what's going to be said.

"What?! I don't know what you're talking about!" I shout, my eyes narrowed.

"How can you expect me to forgive you and be your friend again if you could just leave again at any second?!" she cries back. "How do I know you really want to be Sam again?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" Her face slowly changes from anger to realization. "Do you think I'd come back at all if I didn't miss you, and Spencer, and even Freddie?!" Her face is unreadable, so I press on. "Carly, I was _forced_ to stay. My emails…all of them…they were deleted by _force_…" A lump forms in my throat, and I can't swallow it. I try, but I can't. "I never meant for everything to get so messed up just because _I_ was messed up."

"You're the messed up one?" Carly asks dramatically, and then she sighs. "You know, it's weird…I was always so jealous of you…"

I raise an eyebrow. "Because…?"

"You're so _famous_. You can do whatever you want...you're lost, and _everyone_ is looking for you!" she says, as she walks around. "All those popular girls…they don't have a care in the world. And if they do, ha, like they'd show it. I thought if I acted like them, like I didn't care about anything important anymore, then I wouldn't. I thought…_I'll show Sam_…I'll prove that I'm _just fine_. You know?" I nod. "I know that's stupid, but –"

"No way is it stupid." I tell her, and smile softly. "You're not the only one who tried to act like they were okay." And I mean it, too.

I spent everyday as Samantha Puckétte pretending. Pretending I was this character or that character in a movie, pretending I loved every minute of the fame that stole myself from me. It was like, wake up, pretend, go to sleep, dream. Wake up, pretend, go to sleep, dream…

Dreams were the closest thing I had to real life, and farthest from this 'dream' I'm living, which makes absolutely no sense. But it's true.

Man, do I miss being real. Being Sam.

"Look, I'm not asking you to become my best friend again…" I explain to her. "But I need somebody to turn to. Everything's so wrong. Sure, Spencer told me some stuff, but look at him; he's so different, too! Most change can't explain itself, can it?"

"I guess not." She says slowly, shrugging.

"So will you help me?" I stare at her pleadingly. I must be really good at getting through to people because Carly looks way more like herself right now. Maybe it's the brown hair…

She walks over and hugs me. I don't think I've been hugged in a while. How sad is that?

Anyway, I hug her back, and I notice she's crying. I feel like I should be crying, but I can't. I _don't_ cry.

We pull away and she smiles, as she wipes at her face. "Look at us, we're such _dorks_."

I can't help but laugh. She's right. My hair is sticking up everywhere, and I'm wearing a pair of old rainbow slippers I found in the studio closet (they probably used to be Spencer's). Carly's eyeliner is running down her face. She laughs with me.

"Speaking of dorks…" I say with a slight laugh. But then I frown again, remembering. "What happened to ours?"

"Why do you care?" she asks knowingly.

"Who says I do?" Pfft. I don't care about the dork…okay, maybe I do. But if I'm going to get everything back to normal, I'm going to have to put that aside.

Yeesh. That's gonna be _difficult_.

Carly just laughs and rolls her eyes. "I'm glad you're back." And for the first time since I got here, so am I.

_**Bleep! Bleep! Bleep Bleep!**_

A huge siren sound fills in the room, causing the both of us to jump.

"What's going on?!" I ask loudly over the sound to a panic-stricken Carly.

"It's the building's fire alarm!" Carly yells back. Spencer runs up the stairs, out of breath.

"Come on guys, get out of here!" he yells, hurrying us out. "Come on, come on!"

Everything's a blur as the three of us storm out of the apartment and down the stairs to the lobby.

"Everyone remain calm!" David shouts. "Proceed to the exit in an orderly fashion!"

There's a wave of people stomping towards the door. I lose sight of Carly and Spencer. My heart starts beating in time with my feet running.

I arrive outside finally, after an old, slow-walking lady wearing a shoebox on her head got through the door.

I search the crowd outside for Carly and Spencer. Finally spotting them standing by a tree looking around, I run towards them. They spot me and exhale.

"Thank goodness." Spencer says. "We were quite worried." Suddenly, I hear fire engine sirens in the distance. They become stronger and stronger with every second until two fire trucks arrive, along with a police car.

"Everyone stay where you are!" a tan police officer emerges from his car. He turns to David. "Is everybody accounted for?"

"Yes." David answers quickly. A load of firemen are running into the building with the hose and buckets of water. "Officer, which room appears to be the issue?"

"Hand me your residence list." David does as he's told, while Carly, Spencer and I pretend we're not eavesdropping. "Ah, room 2B…home to the Benson family."

My eyes practically pop out of my head. "What?"

"The _Bensons_?" Carly says to Spencer in disbelief. "But isn't Mrs. Benson, like, the most careful human being alive?"

But I'm barely listening.

"Calm yourself, Samantha." Spencer says. "The officer said everyone was out here. They're okay."

"Yeah…" I breathe in, and then out. "Yeah, you're right. Phew, got a bit freaked out for a second."

"Wait, Sam." Carly says in a low whisper. "Put up the hood on your jacket! People are _searching_ for you, stupid!"

"Oh, right!" I quickly do as I'm told.

"Alright, everybody!" another police officer shouts through a bullhorn. "The fire has been extinguished. Please return to the building in an orderly fashion."

Ignorant to the officer's request, everyone begins rushing back into the Bushwell Plaza, buzzing with chatter.

* * *

_"Valerie, will you hurry up with that soup?" Freddie yelled at his girlfriend. The two of them were in his apartment and hungry. Freddie's mother flat-out refused to have anything to do with them, including preparing their food, so Valerie decided to make the food herself._

_"It's done!" she told him happily, bringing two bowls of soup over to the couch._

_"Oh, good." He said, grabbing a bowl. Then, he sort of looked off into the distance, spacing out._

_Valerie stared at her boyfriend of one year. There was something…off about him, since that Puckette celebrity visited him. She couldn't quite figure out what._

_"Do you like the soup, Freddiebear?" she asked, trying very hard (perhaps too hard) to sound sweet. But Freddie continued to stare into space. He also kept slurping the soup in his spoon, which would be alright if there was actually any soup left on the spoon…"Freddie?" He blinked. "FREDDIE?!"_

_He yelped in surprise, and the soup bowl flew up into the air and fell onto the carpet, spilling out all of its contents as the bowl rolled to the side. Freddie shook his head. "Sorry, just tired."_

_"Well, okay, but –" Suddenly, the fire alarm went off, and Freddie and Valerie jumped up in surprise. They looked over to their kitchen to see a burst of flames._

_"You forgot to turn off the flame?!" Freddie yelled._

_"I didn't know it was important!"_

_"Well it is!"_

_"Whatever…" She rolled her eyes. Freddie's mother ran from the upstairs and grabbed the two of them._

_"Wait!" Freddie said frantically. "I need to get something!"_

_"Freddie, are you - ?" He cut his mother off._

_"It's right there!" he grabbed the bag and followed his mother and Valerie out of the room._

_Then they all ran down the stairs to the lobby._

* * *

Once the lobby is cleared, the three of us take the elevator up to the Shay's apartment.

"Carly, your hair is brown." Spencer points out, smiling. "I like it better that way."

"Thanks, Spencer." She says back uncertainly.

"So, would either of you like some spaghetti with pesto sauce?" he asks us. "I prepared it prior to the fire alarm."

"Sure, I'm starved." I say, smiling.

Right now I can't believe I left these people. I don't even _care_ that Spencer's still acting a stuffy library dude.

I just hope I'm never taken away from them again.

Just as we're about to eat, a knock on the door interrupts us, and Spencer goes to answer it.

"Why, hello Mrs. Benson." I hear him say.

"What's she doing here?" I whisper to Carly. She shrugs.

"Good afternoon, Spencer." She greets. "As you may know, my apartment recently burst into flames, and I was just told that the fumes in our apartment may be damaging to our health. So until they confirm that it is completely, utterly danger-free, we have nowhere to live."

"Really now," Spencer puts in. "That's quite a dilemma."

"Yes." She nods. I grab my cup of water and begin drinking. Pesto tends to cause thirst. "Is there any possible way we could live with you?"

I spit-take my water out onto Carly's face and look over at Spencer, frantically shaking my head.

"Ew!" Carly stands up and crosses her arms. "_That_ was gross!"

_C'mon, Spencer…take the hint, say no, SAY NO_! I continue shaking my head and pleading with him as he looks from Mrs. Benson to me and then back to Mrs. Benson.

"We most certainly have room." He says with a smile. I slump in my seat and sigh. _This is __**not**__ going to end well_. "There's a couch to sleep on for you, and I'm sure there's plenty of room in the iCarly studio for Freddie."

No.

Freaking.

Way.

…

Just no. _No_. No, no, no. No, no, no, no, _no_! I _refuse_!

"Spencer!" I yell angrily. "Don't I have a say in this?"

"Oh, thank you so much!" Mrs. Benson says cheerfully. She's carrying one suitcase, and Freddie walks in, carrying another one.

"Mom, do we really have to…" He sees me, and I swear, his jaw probably drops through the floor. "Live…_you're_ staying here?"

"Wish I wasn't." I mumble, currently having a fabulous view of the rainbow slippers I'm wearing.

"Samantha?" Mrs. Benson questions, surprised. "I must say, I'm surprised to see you here. How are you, dear?"

"Just peachy."

"Would you mind helping Freddie settle in?"

I look over at Carly for reassurance, and she shrugs. "Yes, I do mind, actually."

"Oh, good." She nods. She looks over at Freddie, in his backwards baseball hat and sighs.

I look up, confused. "But wait, I said - !"

"Follow Sam up the stairs, Freddie."

He turns to his mom, disgusted. "No." Her face drops, and she sighs again.

"Stop acting like a brat." She walks out of the room, probably to get more suitcases.

I can't believe this is happening to me. I was doing just fine here without having anything to do with Freddie. And now he's forced upon me. Just great.

He turns to Carly and me, not looking up. "I know where the stupid studio is. I can find it myself…"

"Good, then maybe you can find a new attitude while you're at it!" I shoot back, rolling my eyes.

"I'll find one when you do!" he shouts from the top of the stairs, and disappears.

I shake my head. _Where are you, Freddie?_ _I know you're in there somewhere…_

"That's just sad." Carly echoes my head shake.

I look over at her. "Uh, what's sad?"

"That you guys still fight." She answers. "Why don't you just _talk_ to him, like we talked?"

"Because…" I search my mind, trying to think of a decent answer, only to stumble upon one that's not so decent. "Because he's _Freddie_, okay?! Or at least he kind of is…"

"Okay then."

"And anyway, you're not talking to him, either!" I point out.

"It's different." Carly explains. "Look, it's, um, it's like this. And I'm going to say this very clearly." I nod, waiting for her to continue. "Freddie isn't Freddie without you. And I was friends with _Freddie_… So until you guys work out whatever problems you have now, and even the problems you had three years ago, I can't be his friend. And anyway," she flips her hair. "I've got a rep to keep up."

I raise my eyebrow. "Why would you want to keep such a stupid image up?!"

"It keeps me sane." She explains. "Okay?"

_No. not okay. _"Okay…"

You know what I hate the most?

That the one place that stayed the same all these years is now being tainted by a Freddie I really don't know.

Maybe I should've just stayed in California.

* * *

**A/N: Oh gosh. Freddie moved in and ruined Sam's place of memories! This cannot be good.**

**I hope you guys liked this. I feel like it's a bit rushed…for some reason. I dunno. Tell me what you think though!**

**As you can see, Carly and Sam are back on track. I mean, how long could it really take for Carly to crack when Sam was there?**

**Freddie in a baseball hat…weird. Lol.**

**Anyway, has anyone noticed that Sam's thoughts on Freddie are completely different when he's there, and when he's not there?**

'**Kay, I'm done with my long rant. Review, please!**

**-Colors**


	11. Chapter 10

Summary: So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving

**Summary: **So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving.

**Disclaimer: **iDon't Own iCarly or any of it's characters. Only the ones I make up:)

**iRemember**

**Chapter Ten**

Freddie doesn't waste much time in Carly's apartment, which is just fine with me. He's got his 'peeps' to go 'chill' with. Oh, get this…according to Carly, his best friend right now is that fridge boy (aka Duke). I just don't get him anymore. I wish I did, but I don't. I'm sort of used to just giving up on the things I don't get. So I don't know why I'm trying so hard to understand _him_. He's nothing but one of those guys now.

Oh, get this…according to Carly, his best friend right now is that fridge boy (aka Duke).

Last time I checked, it takes more than one eighth of a brain to be a friend…that one eighth being all about football and smashing things.

Anyway, so he leaves for all of the day, while I sit upstairs, watching the news on the screen we used to use for iCarly (my missing in action story is _everywhere_ now, which, I've gotta say, is really scaring me. I only hope Miss Briggs and David don't watch the news…), petting Carly's poodle, Missy, and trying to contemplate how Freddie and I sharing a room is going to work.

Before I can think any further, I hear a knock at the studio door, and Missy barks and scurries away. "Samantha, it's Mrs. Benson, may I come in?"

_What could she want? _"Um…sure. Yeah. Come in."

She opens the door and walks across the wooden floor, carrying a tray of cucumber cups. I can't help but smile, thinking of the good ol' days when she made those for Carly, Freddie and I (we usually stuffed them in Freddie's pants to avoid contact between the disgusting snacks and our taste buds).

"You still make those?" I ask, trying but failing to not let out a laugh.

She frowns, and I suddenly regret laughing. "No. These were made by Spencer. He wanted me to ask you if you wanted some."

"Oh," I say, sighing. "Um, no thanks. But thanks." Mrs. Benson answers with a sad smile.

"It's no bother, dear." She turns around, heading for the door.

"Wait!" She turns back around to face me. "Mrs. Benson?"

"Yes?"

"I _would_ like some, actually…" I tell her, grimacing inwardly. She smiles.

"Oh, I'm so happy you've changed your mind." She replies cheerfully. "Here you go." She holds out the tray, and I take one.

"Yeah…" I say. I _hate_ cucumber. But…if you could see Mrs. Benson's face right now, you'd get it. She's missing someone really close to her. Her only son, her pride and joy, her reason for living has turned into someone she doesn't recognize. Freddie was all she had since her husband, Freddie's dad, left them back when he was seven (a year after he met me). She vowed to be the best parent she could be, to protect Freddie from anymore of that hurt of somebody leaving. She over-did it a smidge, but in the end, _I _kind of screwed that up I know I always made fun of her, and all that crazy stuff she had Freddie do, but in reality I was jealous. Freddie's mom loved him so much, and she showed it everyday. I never picked that up from my mom. So I've forever had respect for Mrs. Benson…I just never showed it. "Me too. But if it's okay…can I ask you something?"

I can see she's confused. "Of course. What is the matter?" She sits down in a chair, next to the blue beanbag chair I'm sitting on. I shut off the news.

"Well…I was just wondering…" I bite my lip and breathe. "What happened to Freddie? Everyone has been avoiding the topic whenever I bring it up, and I thought since you _are_ his mom and all…maybe _you_ could tell me." She looks very sad and reflective for a moment. I suddenly notice just how tired she appears to be. Her hair is showing signs of gray. It's odd looking at her now, and then looking back to three years ago when she ordered Freddie to recite the posture rule or gave him forced tick baths. She was crazy, but she had good intentions. She used to be so together and organized in them, too.

_Whoop-dee-do_. Another 'used-to-be' to add to the pile called my life.

Out of nowhere, she gives a small smile again, still looking deep in thought. "You know, Samantha, I used to think you were a bad influence on Fredward." Most people did, I guess. "And at first, I thought I was right. Once you left to become famous, Freddie was completely fixated on his studies. Perhaps _too_ fixated."

"You're serious?" I ask, baffled. "But –"

"It's true." Mrs. Benson confirms with a nod. "It appeared as if it was his number one priority, as if he was trying to forget everything else. He ignored all of his friends, and stayed home on the weekends studying from morning to night. His grades skyrocketed. The only time he ever did anything social was, of course, that show…iCarly." I look around the room, at his camera equipment, at the iCarly logo, at the windows, which, with the sun setting right now, don't have as much light coming through, but you could see the colors in the sky through them.

"It was really important to us." I explain to her. She nods again.

"I know." She pauses her a moment. "He still did the show every week with Carly and Spencer. It kept him sane, amongst all the tough homework assignments and absences from his life." Mrs. Benson lets out yet another sigh, and I have this feeling that the story is about to take a large downhill plunge. "Once Carly ended iCarly and their friendship, he snapped. He simply…stopped caring about everything and anything. He stopped doing homework and studying, so his grades plummeted. Since his locker is near Duke's, he started spending time with him and all these other troublemaking children." Suddenly there are tears in her eyes. Guilt fills my heart once again. It's like a cloud over my head that never really disappears. Deep down, I can't blame Spencer, or Carly, or Freddie…or…Duke! It's all my fault. _Mine_. "I tried so hard to enforce rules and discipline, but he simply didn't care about whatever punishment I gave him. Nothing mattered to him anymore. So I stopped trying."

"I'm so sorry." I hear myself say. I'm sincere, but my mind is completely somewhere else. Because…if he really doesn't care about anything…why did he ask why I was here? Why did he send me that email? Why - ?

"Don't be sorry, honey." She says with a half-heart smile. "He's to blame. He spent so much time trying to live his way around the hurt, avoiding it, until there was nothing left to do but stand still, staring at the places he walked by. But you're back, and he can't handle the fact that you just might break him and make him care about something again. You're his past. But that was his choice, not yours." I never knew Mrs. Benson could be so wise.

"No, it is my fault!" I argue back, standing up. "If I hadn't left –"

"Samantha, he _let_ you leave." I slowly sit back down, letting that statement sink in. I stare at the ground, suddenly questioning the real reason I left all over again. I thought it was because I wanted to leave, but maybe all along I just wanted someone to tell me to stay. "Honey?" I look up. "I think he misses you."

Well if he really does, like both he and his mom have said, he's definitely got a weird way of showing it.

* * *

_Sam's plane was out of sight._

_Carly held back tears and hugged her brother, missing her best friend already._

_Gibby, Jeremy, and a bunch of other people were soon gone, but Carly, Spencer and Mrs. Benson remained, just staring at the space where Sam's airplane disappeared into the sunset, contemplating. For them, but mostly Carly, it was all really hard to take in._

_Goodbyes didn't always mean forever. But sometimes…they did._

_"Well, we'd better go." Spencer finally spoke up. "I had a spaghetti soufflé in the oven. Hopefully the building didn't burn down…heh…heh…" Carly looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, sorry. Too soon for cooking comedy?"_

_"Way." Carly confirmed with a sigh. Mrs. Benson simply watched them with concerned eyes._

_The three of them heard frantic footsteps behind them and turned around._

_In front of them stood Freddie, panting and tired, a determined look in his eyes. "I'm here, I'm here! Where is Sam? I need to talk to her!"_

_Carly bit her lip. "Freddie, she's –"_

_"I know she's mad at me, but I don't care!" Freddie yelled. "I might not see her ever again, and I need to –"_

_"She's gone, Freddie." Mrs. Benson said, sighing._

_Freddie's face crumpled. "Wh…what?"_

_"Her plane left about five minutes ago." Carly told him. "I'm really sorry."_

_"But I –" He looked up into the sky, where Sam's plane was right now, flying her away. "But…"_

* * *

"Anyway," Freddie's mom continues, as I stare off into space. I snap out of it and turn to her. She picks up the almost entirely full tray of cucumber cups (except for the blank spot where I took one). "I had better get these cups downstairs. Enjoy yours."

"Okay." I smile warily as she gets up to leave. "And thanks. For everything."

She smiles. "My pleasure, dear." And then she's out the door, leaving me to a brief moment to collect my completely out-of-order thoughts. But not for long, hence –

"Out of the way, mom!" I hear a familiar, yet completely unfamiliar voice scream from outside the door.

_A gasp. _"Fredward!"

"Don't call me that!" The door slams as Freddie barges in. The sun is just done setting, and there's no more light coming into the studio. If I was paranoid, I'd say Freddie took it.

"I didn't know you were in here." He says. I can feel his stare on me, but I don't look up. I _heard_ enough to know what he appears to be.

"You're sleeping over there." I merely say, pointing to a mattress, which Spencer had blown up, and I'd taken the courtesy to move it as far away from my mattress as physically possible (without throwing it out the window).

"Fine." He ends our completely thrilling (note the sarcasm) conversation and walks over to his mattress.

The whole entire room is silent. The kind of silent that's so silent, you can hear a weird buzzing noise. Or maybe you convince yourself you're hearing something, to take your mind off the silence, and more possibly, _why_ there's silence.

_I can't take much of this anymore._ Freddie's just sitting there, not saying anything. So I grab the remote for the screen and turn the television back on.

On the screen, there's a tan, brunette woman wearing a red suit. She's on the streets of Hollywood, and '**UPDATE: THE PUCKÉTTE STORY**' is written across the screen.

"_The recent reward in return for the company's lost starlet has been confirmed to be doubled, to a total of two million do – _" I quickly change the channel to an episode of Girly Cow. _Ha, I haven't seen this in ages._

"You ran away from home?" Freddie suddenly speaks up, making me jump. I didn't expect him to say anything.

"Look, it speaks." I roll my eyes and turn to him. "Actually, I ran towards my home."

He raises an eyebrow. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Yes it does." I argue. I glare for a moment, and then I sigh. "Okay, look Freddie, if we're going to be living in the same room for who knows how long, we're going to have to at least _try_ to be civil."

"I _was_ being civil." He says, annoyed.

"_Right_, if civil means screaming at your mom to get out of the way."

He suddenly looks really offended. "That's none of your business!"

"What, is the truth to hard for you to handle?"

"No, just you!" he yells pointedly. "You think just because you've been some famous person that you know who I am?" _That's not it at all_. "There's been about three years of change here that you haven't witnessed! If you can't deal with it and the fact that you just don't know anything, just –"

"Okay, okay, stop." I sigh. As much as I hate to admit it, he _is_ sort of right. I _don't_ know exactly what's been going on here since I stopped answering Carly. But yelling at him isn't going to help me find out, is it? "This fighting's not getting anywhere. You hate me, that's been established."

I swear, I think his face falls. "I…I don't –"

"But for the sake of everyone around us, let's just act otherwise." I tell him, mentally cursing myself. I can be so stupid sometimes. I could've asked him about iCarly ending, or Duke, or why he decided not to come say goodbye to me. Instead I act like I want to put us right back where we started since I got here – acting like strangers.

Why can't I bring myself to say what I want to say? Why do the words _always_ come out wrong?

He nods robotically. "Fine." He looks around. "I'm out. Meeting Valerie…"

And with that, he departs.

_Mrs. Benson was wrong,_ I tell myself, shaking my head. _He cares about Valerie. Not me._

And why would I care anyway, right?

He's just a stubborn, rude, uncaring, ridiculous, changed, Valerie-loving, in-denial, ungrateful…_dork_.

_Then why are you still thinking about him_? Asks an annoying, little voice in my head that always seems to get on my nerves.

I let out a frustrated sigh, falling back on my lumpy airbed. I grab a pillow and hide under it. From _everything_.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry this wasn't as long as the last one, but I wanted to end it there. This is one of those good news-bad news days. Bad news; I'm sick, so I had to miss my CIT job. Good news; update for you all!:)**

**So, we learn some very important details in this chapter. Freddie's father left him when he was seven. We learn Mrs. Benson's perspective on Freddie's change. We also learn that Freddie wanted to see Sam off but was too late. If he was over trying to avoid her, then why would he not try to contact her? Hmm… We learn that Sam's disappearance news is spreading like wildfire. The reward is now two million dollars. Yikes.**

**What did you guys think?**

**Oh, by the way, a phrase I used a couple chapters ago 'What the ham?', I remembered subconsciously from Bucket On The Head's Seddie story Seven Hundred Fifty Hours. So of course, credit to you, Bucket On The Head! Way to be funny!:)**

**Laters!**

**-Colors**


	12. Chapter 11

Summary: So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving

**Summary: **So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving.

**Disclaimer: **iDon't Own iCarly or any of it's characters. Only the ones I make up:)

**iRemember**

**Chapter Eleven**

Three years ago, meals at the Shay residence were always so fun and zany, especially when it was just Carly, Freddie, Spencer and I. Spencer would whip up some spaghetti tacos or chocolate pasta, we'd talk about iCarly or our extreme dislike of Miss Briggs or ham or politics (actually, the politics was only Freddie). Carly and I would talk about guys and shopping. Freddie and I, well, we'd argue, obviously. But it was sort of like we were a family. A freaky, weird one, but still a family.

If I was told three years ago how painfully silent those meals would become, I would've laughed, because it was something I could always count on.

Yet here I am, living proof as I sit between Carly and Spencer, across from Freddie and diagonal from his mom. We're eating eggs…just plain, boring eggs. It's Monday; normally Carly and Freddie would be in school, but Spencer told us earlier that Miss Briggs' bagpipes set off the fire alarm, no, _broke_ the fire alarm. They have to spend today fixing it

Luckily, Freddie had come in from whatever he was doing really late (robbing a bank? Wrecking a car?), while I was sleeping, so I didn't have to face him further that night.

But then, of course, the sun rose and morning came. Another day, another problem.

Carly side-glances at me, and I give her a look that states 'why-am-I-here?' Her hair is back to being blonde, but it's not as disappointing to look at, now that I know the real reason behind it.

I still sort of wish she would just _be_ Carly again. Completely, one hundred percent Carly, and no one else. It's hard to sit and wait for change you're not even sure will happen.

Most often, the only change that happens that fast is the kind that you don't want.

Mrs. Benson speaks up, probably sensing the massive amounts of awkward. "So, Samantha, how long do you plan on staying?"

_As long as it takes_. "I, um, I'm not sure." The thing about not planning things out is that you can make it up as you go. For all I know, I could be leaving tomorrow, or next week, even next month. It merely depends on what'll happen. I'm not leaving, though, until I fix everything; I'm just stubborn like that. For once in my life, I'm going to clean a mess I made.

"Oh, alright then." She clears her throat and apparently gives up on small talk.

After a couple more moments of silence, Freddie breaks it. "Can I go?! Why the heck am I still here? I was supposed to meet Valerie, Duke and Terrene, like, an hour ago!"

Without realizing it, I stab my egg with unnecessary force and glare at the ground. I'm simply pretending I don't care.

Which I don't. But, say I _did_, it's not something I'd like to let on. Ever since I got back, I think I've been sort of…nervous around Freddie. Sometimes even a little dizzy. But I think it's because of the fire fumes coming from next door. It's got to be. I can't think of _any_ other explanation.

Nope. None.

"Oh just shush, Freddie." Mrs. Benson says, frustrated.

"Whatever. I don't care." He slumps back in his seat.

"Of _course_ you don't." I mutter under my breath.

"What was that, Samantha?" Freddie asks snidely. Now he's looking at me. I can tell. I can feel his empty, chocolate brown eyes staring right through him. The way I see it, if I don't look at him, this gnawing feeling in my stomach will go away. Out of sight, out of mind.

"Oh, nothing." I pick up a piece of scrambled (well, scrambled as in assaulted with my fork) egg and lift the fork into my mouth. "Nothing you'd care about, I mean."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" We're both sitting there, trying to pretend this is a completely normal segment of small talk.

The truth is, we're arguing civilly. Which is not only an oxymoron, but absolutely pathetic.

"I didn't say anything." I respond, lying through my teeth. He glares.

"Mom, I'm leaving." He gets out of his chair and walks out of the apartment, the slam of the door echoing in my ears.

Mrs. Benson lets out a sigh. "He always leaves these days."

A silence fills the table once again, leaving me to my thoughts.

* * *

_Freddie Benson sat in his room after school, a place he'd been spending a lot of time in lately. He would spend countless hours forcing his soul into his homework. Anything to distract him, anything to make it go away._

_By 'it', he meant the rest of the hours that he spent staring at his email inbox, hoping, waiting. He was smart. He knew it was a complete waste of time to just sit there and wait, yet he did it anyway._

_One of the things that made Freddie so smart was his acute memory. He remembered all that he'd read, everywhere he'd been…everyone he'd talked to. All in such great, effortless detail. He remembered it all and cared about it all, and sometimes, without even trying._

_Who knew his very biggest strength would soon become his ultimate downfall?_

_Because he remembered who she was. And who he was. Who they were together. Those alone made such perfect sense, despite all their flaws._

_And then, Freddie would look at magazines with her airbrushed face pasted on fifty different pages. He would look at himself in the mirror._

_The two different times just didn't compute._

_But he had iCarly…the only part of what was that he could keep. He had that; he treasured that, up until today, when Carly took it and herself away._

_He stared at his mother's laptop (his laptop was still at Carly's house, and he wasn't up to picking it up. He would have to unplug all of the cords that directed live feed straight to the iCarly page, which would waste too much of his slim energy), which currently had the iCarly homepage displayed on its screen, a little box blocking the site's latest videos._

_**'ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO TERMINATE THIS SITE?' **__the words in the box questioned, bold and plain-as-day. Right under the question were two buttons, labeled 'Yes' and 'No.'_

_It was a harmless, computerized question that mocked him painfully._

_Did he want to? He didn't know._

_Did he need to? He didn't know._

_Did he have to? He didn't know._

_He really wished that there was a button in between 'Yes' and 'No', that stated, 'I don't know', or maybe even 'I don't care.'_

_Suddenly, he decided that he shouldn't care. Sam was gone, Carly was gone, heck, even he was pretty close to being gone. __**What's gone is gone**__, he decided. __**People leave, people change. I just need to get over it. To forget**__._

_He shouldn't care. So he wouldn't care. About __**anything**__._

_After all, what was the point in caring, or even remembering anything or anyone that was never coming back?_

_It was decided._

_He clicked the 'x' at the top left corner of the box, and then the iCarly page, and then his essay due in two days. He clicked the X when the computer asked if he wanted to save his data. He xed out his computer game, his school website, his mother's e-card that he was working on…and finally, his email inbox._

_Then, he closed his laptop, hard, and watched as it fell off his bed, to the ground._

_X._

_X._

_**X**__._

* * *

"And then he just left?" Carly asks me, baffled.

"Yeah, to go see Valerie." I roll my eyes. "Look, can we stop talking about this, please?"

"Okay, no, because it's just plain stupid!" she argues. She's pacing back and forth. We're up in the iCarly studio.

I can't help but smile, because, even after all this time, Carly still can't stand it when things are out of order.

When we first started iCarly, she was so organized that she had us recite this whole procedure…_We stand together, you on the left me on the right, camera in front of us, Freddie cues us and we introduce the kids with crazy talents, _I remember.

When she kept my secret, that I changed her grades in the school system, something wasn't in place, causing her major lack of sleep, and no lack of guilt.

Everyday, I'm seeing more of the old Carly. Now she's pacing, and trying to find order in my crazy situation.

"You came back here to fix things." She continues, rambling. "No one has tried to fix anything in a long time, and you know what?" she turns to me. "You're both being _so_ stubborn."

"Me?" I ask loudly. "What? Wasn't I the one who suggested we be civil?!"

"Yeah, and it's not working." Carly shoots back. She's right. "Obviously you've got to be more than just civil."

"And by that you mean…?" I raise my eyebrow.

"Sam," she sighs. "Be _nice_ to him. Actually _talk_ to him. About stuff. Maybe even what happened?"

"Sure…maybe." And to quote the overly-used, cliché line: better said than done.

"Just think about it, 'kay?" she asks me. I shrug. "'Kay. I have a party now." She suddenly looks uncertain, but then brightens up. "Wanna come with?"

I stare at her. "Hello, people searching the country for me!"

Her face falls. "Oh, right. Sorry."

I continue to look at her. "You know, you don't have to go if you don't want to."

"But I do." She says, frustrated. "It's not that easy. You can't just leave. Life doesn't work that way." My mind flashbacks to that lady at the airport I met only three days ago, though it seemed so much longer. I remember her, with her messy hair and angry stare, as if she'd given up on the world. I remember her papers flying everywhere as I approached; how much it panicked her when the slightest unpredicted thing happened. The way she scowled when I tried to help.

Is that what happens to those who choose to forget? When you choose to push it all away – the sadness, the pain – do you end up drowning in it when it finds its way back?

The truth about memories is that they're a part of you. And when you throw them all away and try to lose them…you lose _yourself_. Because memories are reminders of not only what was, but who you are. You can never ignore who you are.

So does Carly have to go to that party, only to temporarily drive the inevitable change away?

"No." I hear myself say firmly, partly to Carly and partly to myself. I stand up. "Carly, no. You don't have to go to the party."

"But –"

"Stop running from yourself!" I tell her, throwing my hands up in the air. She stares at me for a long time. "You'll only end up too tired to carry on, like I felt back in California, and that cranky lady."

She raises an eyebrow. "Cranky lady…?"

I wave my hand dismissively. "Never mind! Look, you've got to listen to me. You have nothing left to prove. You can be the old Carly anytime you want. I mean, what's stopping you besides, you know…_you_?"

She opens her mouth to protest, and then it snaps shut immediately. "I…I don't know."

"In that case…" I look around the room, a small smile on my face. My eyes fall on Freddie's old camera. "Hey, why don't we make an iCarly episode? You know, just for fun!"

I'm really excited at this point. It's an amazing realization I just made – one that Carly helped me make, actually. You can't sit around and wait for things to be the way they should be. The truth is, the real way to get through to people is to just _do_ it. If there's something that needs to happen, simply _make it happen_.

I'm _Sam Puckett_, after all. I can make things happen, if I actually try. And let me tell you, I've gotten a lot less lazy these last few years.

"Are you serious?" she asks, astounded. "You just want me to ditch the biggest party of the year, ditch everything I've worked hard to build, all these years, to make a fake iCarly web cast?!"

I smile sheepishly. "Uh…yeah…?"

She looks uncertain, and for a moment I think she's going to decline. But…

She shrugs and smiles. "Okay!"

And as we do all sorts of random things in front of the camera, and watching them afterwards laughing our guts off…

My best friend, Carly Shay, finally comes out of hiding.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry if this was short, but I hope you liked the happy in this chapter! They made an iCarly episode!:) Well, a fake one, without Freddie, but still! Happy, happy, happy. Or is it? Just saying, the shooting of their fake-cast, on Freddie's camera, is really important. Maybe you even know why…hmm…**

**Ooh, and Sam's found a whole new approach; just do it. Lol, I sound like Nike. I wonder where that'll lead.**

**I'm really proud of the Freddie flashback here, too. I feel like I did a good job on it.**

**But what's really important is guy you guys think! So let me know!**

**-Colors**


	13. Chapter 12

Summary: So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving

**Summary: **So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving.

**Disclaimer: **iDon't Own iCarly or any of it's characters. Only the ones I make up:)

**iRemember**

**Chapter Twelve**

_"Sam!" A voice jolted Sam Puckett from her dream about Ham-man attacking Ham Francisco._

_"What?!" She looked around, panicked. "Who's there?! I know karate!"_

_"It's the dork." Freddie replied, sarcastically. He was holding his camera. "We were supposed to do Wake Up Spencer tonight, remember?"_

_"So I forgot!" she whispered, in her usual Sam-like tone._

_"You forgot?!"_

_"Well, sorry my love for sleep distorted my memory!" She grumbled, crossing her arms. "And anyway, normal people don't stay up 'til four AM."_

_"Right, because we're __**so**__ normal." He exclaims, smiling slightly. "C'mon, let's go before we wake Carly."_

_"Yeah, yeah." Sam rolled her eyes and got out of her sleeping bag. The two frenemies left Carly's bedroom and walked across the hall to her crazy brother's room._

_"Alright, Freddork, let's do it." Sam whispered, turning on his camera for him. "Hey iCarly viewers. We're back in Spencer's room –"_

_"To wake him up." Freddie finished enthusiastically._

_Sam stared at him. "I think they knew that already. The segment's called 'Wake Up Spencer', moron!"_

_"No need to be rude." Freddie shot back. He zoomed in on Spencer's clock. "As you can see, it's 4:12 AM."_

_"Which, unbeknownst to Spencer, is also wakey-wakey time." Sam joked. She turned to Freddie. "On three. One…two…three –"_

_"WAKE UP, SPENCER!" They shouted at the same time. Spencer sat up abruptly and started muttering gibberish and flailing about._

_"Wh-what? Wait, where am –" Spencer muttered sleepily._

_"You forgot to iron your pomegranate!" Freddie told him, laughing._

_"I, wait, my polished helmet?!" Spencer was completely out of it. Freddie and Sam burst out laughing._

_"Quick, run, it's in Canada!" Sam yelled between laughs._

_"But I can't run to Canada! I don't have a poma…helmet…Canada…"_

_"Use the mop!"_

_"The strawberry flavored one!" Freddie chimed in._

_The two of them continued the segment, laughing like crazy and having a blast, completely unaware that it could've been their last time._

_Because come tomorrow, Jaryn Frund would view Sam singing on an episode of iCarly, and Sam would decide to leave; Freddie, meanwhile, would decide with all his might not to care._

* * *

_I'm going to do it._

And the thought is so ridiculously, undeniably scary that I'm shaking, and quite frankly, you might just see my dinner again in a moment. But it's also a true thought, which makes it even scarier.

I'm lying down in my sleeping bag, reading one of Carly's old books (_The Truth About Forever, _by Sarah Dessen). Well, sort of reading it. I can see the ink on the pages, but the words just aren't fazing me. I keep rereading the same line over and over; _You have to have a little bit of disorganization now and then. Otherwise, you'll never really enjoy it when things go right_…It just happens to be the line that my eyes fall on each time, but weirdly, it seems to fit me perfectly.

Then I look up at the clock; 3:56 AM. Way too late to be up, and waiting. Yet I am. There's no way I'm turning back now. I didn't before; why start now?

It was almost like a routine. Read the same line again and again, look up at the clock, think that scary thought once again, and then we're back to reading that line.

I bet you're curious what I'm staying up waiting for, so I'll tell you.

I'm going to talk to Freddie. I really am. And without arguing, too. I spent a lot of time today thinking about what I have to do to completely become Sam Puckett again.

For the few days I've been here, I've been feeling more and more like myself. And it's great…but I realized about five hours ago that there can't be Sam Puckett without, you know, a dork by her side.

The people you meet throughout your life play a huge part in who you are, and who you might be. You don't realize it at first, but they do. Sometimes they only affect you in an insignificant way; so small that you can't even notice. But they do.

And sometimes, a person can affect you in such a large way, that they become part of what defines you. And if they leave, well, it changes you. That definition, what makes you _you_, is forcibly altered in trying to fill that void. Because wherever that person is, they took part of you with them. I mean, Carly, Freddie and I parted ways, and look what happened to us.

So that's why I'm lying here, waiting for Freddie to return from wherever he is, so I can finally become whole again, in the way I want to be.

Seriously, who stays out 'til four AM?

_This is getting ridiculous. _I close the Sarah Dessen book (well, I wasn't going to read it!) and yawn. The gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach hasn't decreased in the slightest bit.

You know those times where you just want to get something over with, so it's done and you can say it's done?

You do now.

The worry is suddenly replaced with hunger when my stomach growls. I decide to go downstairs and get something to eat, not caring how late it is.

I pull myself out of the sleeping bag and slip on Spencer's rainbow slippers. Quietly, I head out of the iCarly studio and down the stairs, thinking about just what I've gotten myself into.

Because there he is. He's sitting on the couch reading some book. He looks lost in it, and suddenly I'm really curious what it is that he's reading; what book could make 'bad boy Freddie Benson' look lost.

On top of my curiosity, I'm also feeling slightly sick. Maybe this isn't such a brilliant idea after all.

But before I can turn around or say anything, he spots me. He slams the book shut and looks around the room awkwardly.

I walk towards him, suddenly feeling dizzy again. It's probably just because I'm tired. It _is_ four o'clock in the morning. "Hey." My voice feels louder than it is in the quiet, sleeping apartment.

He raises an eyebrow, studying me, probably trying to figure out why I'm coming down to talk to him so late at night. "Hey?" His response comes out as more of a question.

"Have you been down here all night?" _Oh wow, Sam, way to ask the dumbest question on the planet._

"Why would you care?" he asks quietly. And honestly, I can't blame him for wondering. I haven't been all that nice since I've gotten back. I wasn't so nice before I left either. I guess I thought I sort of _had_ to be mean to him, since that's how I acted towards him before everything changed. But really, I wasn't all that whole back then, either. I had a void to fill back then, too. And maybe this will finally fill it – becoming actual friends with him.

After a couple of seconds, I shrug. "I…I dunno."

We just stare at each other for probably the longest time. None of it feels real yet; me being here, seeing him. Have you ever noticed that everything seems less existent at night? The morning seems so far away and out of reach. I guess this is why most people sleep at night.

But time and time again I learn that I'm really not like most people. And Freddie used to be different, too. We were the bad girl and the nerd – though we had different ways of showing it, we never let anyone tell us how to live and what to do.

Boy, have things changed since then.

I hear a couple of crickets from outside one of the Shay's open windows. They're so free. They can sing whenever they want and still be who they are and with their own that they want to be with. They're so lucky, those stupid bugs. Lovely, now I'm jealous of singing insects.

"Okay, this is freaking me out." Freddie finally breaks the silence, causing me to jump slightly. I was concentrating on his eyes. Oops. "You've been within ten feet of me for a full minute, and we haven't argued or insulted each other yet." I slowly relax. Was that a joke?

"Yeah, I don't think that's happened since –" Realization dawns on me. "Ever." I can't read his expression as I say that. I shift uncomfortably and my eyes fall to the book in his lap. It's dark so I can't really see what it looks like. "So…whatcha reading?"

"Nothing!" he answers, probably too quickly, and for a split second, I see nervous, nerdy Freddie Benson, until he glares and hisses, "Why?" like an obnoxious brat, forcing the vision away again.

Suddenly, I'm really annoyed. _Why is he acting so defensive over a book?! Now I __**really**__ wanna know what it is…_

"I'm just curious." I roll my eyes. I see him try to hide the book, but with my super quick reflexes, I snatch it from his hands. _Ha, yes!_ I flip open the book before he has any time to react. Now to –

I freeze, not believing what I'm seeing. My heart beats faster than normal as I slowly look from the page to Freddie, and then back to the page.

I'm staring at a picture of Carly and I, age eight, with a tuna sandwich.

At my photo album.

"Where did you find it?" I ask softly. I quickly snap out of my trance and put on a Sam face. "I've, you know, been looking for it."

"You left it in my apartment, after you saw –" He pauses, not looking at me. "Just, you left it there."

But wait a second.

He hasn't been in his apartment since the fire.

My heart starts beating even faster. So fast that I think it just might fall out of my chest and bounce off the walls of the apartment. I can't think straight anymore.

"You rescued it, didn't you?" I hear myself ask, but I feel far away…like I'm drifting backwards. "Before the fire."

He looks down at his feet. "It's the _only_ thing I rescued."

Freddie says this, plain as day. And then my mind rewinds back to the week before I got on that plane. _'Good riddance_,' he'd said. '_Good riddance'._

I shake my head slightly, trying to understand. "But why would you care about - ?"

"I _don't_!" he suddenly yells harshly. "I just kept it…because…"

"So, what, Freddie?" I cross my arms. "You expect me to believe you took it because it's green, your favorite color?" I stare at him, waiting. He continues to say nothing, and it's honestly driving me bonkers. Will _anything_ get through to his thick head? "Do you care, or do you not care?" He sighs, obviously searching himself. "There's no in between…I would know."

"I don't…_anything_." He answers, frustrated. "I don't know, okay? Why does it matter if I care about some stupid book anyway?!"

"I swear, you're just impossible." I huff, opening the book. "Sometimes I wonder why I even try."

He raises an eyebrow, confused. "Try what?"

I simply shake my head.

If he really doesn't care, then why does he act so much like he does? And more importantly, why do I even care?

I'm _fine_ with not being completely whole again now. Just fine.

I mean it.

I turn the page of the photo album randomly, revealing a picture of Carly, Freddie and I on a beach when we were eleven. Carly's at the far left, with ice cream all over her nose smiling widely. I'm in the middle, pointing and laughing at Freddie, who is on the other side of me, covered in sand, huffing. So obviously I poured sand on him.

I take a deep breath. I'm ready. _Time to remember, Freddie_. "Hey, do you remember this?" I hand the book over to him, and he studies it. There's somewhat of a smile of his face.

"Yeah," he answers. "My mom gave me anti-mineral baths for a month."

"And those gave you those rashes." I laugh. He nods, looking slightly confused by my switch in topics, but I need to do this.

Remembering is what helped me realize where I went wrong…and maybe it would help Freddie, too. A while ago, I had some growing up to do; I had to face my mistakes, and the obstacles put up to correct them.

I turn the page randomly again. "Look, this was when we all met the Plain White T's."

"Oh yeah," he smiles, a little bigger than the time before. "I remember that."

And now, it's his turn.

* * *

_"So, Freddie, what do you say?" Valerie stared at Freddie, her arms crossed, expecting a big fat YES because that was just who she was._

_"I dunno, Val." He said, and he meant it. He wasn't so sure he liked Valerie. In fact, he wasn't sure he liked anyone nowadays. Sam left two years ago, and suddenly nothing mattered._

_"Oh come on, Freddybear." She pouted. "Don't tell me you've still got that Sam girl on your mind." He stared at the ground, trying to let her words just roll away, like he did with everything. But she was talking about her. And he couldn't ignore her, though he tried, and wouldn't give up trying. "She's always hated you, you know. I mean, like, she moved away, without even asking you what you thought. And even when she was here, all she did was pick on you."_

_"She told me I was important…" he mumbled, more to himself than anyone._

_"Yeah, once." Valerie rolled her eyes. "And then she gave you a wedgie! Yeah, that totally means she cares." Freddie's body shook. He couldn't take much more of her words. "But me…__**I'm**__ here, and I'm not leaving."_

_Freddie sighed and put on his bravest face. He'd show her he didn't need her. He didn't. He didn't. He didn't._

_"Sure, let's go out." He managed to say, smiling._

_Later that night, Freddie Benson signed onto his email, and he gave it one more try. He sent Samantha Puckétte one more email, containing only twenty-four words, hoping that maybe, she'd finally answer as Sam. If she answered, he would dump Valerie. He really would._

_**To Samantha Puckétte,**_

_**Please tell Sam that I miss her. She's been gone for a while, and I don't know where she is.**_

_**-Freddie Benson**_

_He never did receive a reply._

* * *

**A/N: Yikes. Intense. But hey, some Sam and Freddie progress right there! As you can see, Freddie's unsure where to put his heart; if he should put his heart anywhere at all. It's not very easy to figure out where your heart lies, I'm sure you can all relate to that. Past or present? What will win?!**

**Stay tuned!**

**-Colors**

**PS – I was watching the iCarly Double Date Night Commercial with my nine year old sister Emily. At the end, she was laughing at the thought of Carly dating Gibby, and suddenly she goes, "Oh my god, what if Sam dated Freddie?" And burst out laughing. After that, I had to give her a long speech about the wonderfulness of Seddie, and I'm here to report that I have converted her. Yay!:)**


	14. Chapter 13

Summary: So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving

**Summary: **So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving.

**Disclaimer: **iDon't Own iCarly or any of it's characters. Only the ones I make up:)

**iRemember**

**Chapter Thirteen**

My eyes slowly open half-way. I'm too exhausted to move them further from lack of sleep.

The surface under me doesn't feel like the air bed up in the iCarly studio, and a faint smell of pancakes fills my nose. I finally manage to open my eyes, discovering that I had fallen asleep on the couch downstairs.

_But why? What happened yesterday that I stayed up so late for?_ I'm so tired that I can't even think straight. I yawn, trying to unscramble my tired brain.

I sit up. A millisecond later, I hear something fall to the ground. I glance down at the floor.

My photo album. Of course, my photo album! I was looking at it with Freddie.

* * *

_Sam Puckett yawned, flipping a page. She and Freddie had been through the entire photo album, talking about every picture, even laughing a little._

_Though she wouldn't admit it out loud, Sam was enjoying it. Through her years of fame, she'd always remembered only by herself, in her dreams or in her thoughts. She had never reminisced with anyone but herself up until that night._

_Talking about all those used to be's out loud made them seem so much more real and within reach._

_Sam flipped to what appeared to be the last picture in the album – one of Carly, Freddie, Sam and Spencer at Groovy Smoothies, a couple days before their life-altering iCarly webcast._

_"That was fun," Freddie told Sam, smiling a little. It was a cheesy, overused, but true statement._

_"Yeah, it was." Sam nodded in agreement. "Like when we poured the banana smoothie down Spencer's pants!"_

_Freddie frowned. "Actually, I think that was me."_

_"Oh." Sam shifted uncomfortably. "Right." An awkward silence drowned the two._

_Sam watched him open his mouth, as if he was going to say something, and then watched it close. She sort of wished it'd stayed open._

_Suddenly she was feeling very tired. And from there on, everything went black._

* * *

"Good morning Samantha, I see you're up." I hear Mrs. Benson greet. She's in the kitchen, apparently cooking breakfast. Weirdly enough, she seems to be in so much better of a mood that I'd seen all weekend.

"You too." I say back, with another yawn. I stare at the couch. "Did I fall asleep down here?"

"Oh, yes, in fact, you did." She says, smiling, possibly recalling something. I don't know. Mrs. Benson is a little weird sometimes, even to this day. "I came down here around six A.M. because Freddie wasn't in his bed, and I found you sleeping on his shoulder. I had to wake him up for school, but I didn't want to disturb you."

I fell asleep on his shoulder? Well, that's just great. As if we weren't awkward enough before.

Ah well. At least we're on speaking terms. Even if we were half asleep, Part of me feels like we both just didn't have the energy to argue and pretend to forget.

Allowing yourself to remember requires way less effort than forcing yourself to not.

"Oh, uh…thanks, I guess." I say to her awkwardly. "So you're making pancakes?"

"Yes! They're blueberry." She smiles again, humming to herself. Alright, I'm really starting to get freaked out here. Why is she acting so happy? "Would you like some once I'm finished?"

"Sure." I answer. My stomach growls, agreeing with me. "Mrs. Benson, not to sound rude, but why are you all _happy-go-lucky_ today…?"

"Various reasons, which I will list." She says, flipping a pancake. "The fire department called and said that the fumes should be cleared by now, and we just have to go into the apartment to check the damage. Also," I wait, curiously. "Freddie actually _went_ to school today! It's a miracle!"

I stare ahead, trying to picture Freddie Benson walking towards the bus, jumping into a bush, watching it drive away, and then rounding a corner to the mall to meet up with his groupies, but I really just can't.

"Well, uh, that's cool." I force a smile. She sets down two pancakes on the Shay's table, and I sit down. "Thanks."

"It's no bother at all." She replies cheerfully. "If you need anymore, let me know. We've got plenty since Carly and Freddie are at school, and Spencer is at work!" I nod, placing a piece of pancake in my mouth.

I can't believe I fell asleep down here, but even more, I can't believe Freddie didn't wake me up or leave or move. There's probably some hidden meaning to it, but honestly, I've never been too great with mysteries so I'll just leave it as it is.

"I know you may not be so excited that Freddie actually listened to me for once," Mrs. Benson chimes in, sitting across from me, coffee mug in hand. "But really, any progress is progress, isn't it?"

_Any progress is progress…_ "Yeah, true."

"And I haven't seen Freddie read or write pretty much anything in quite a while." She sips her cup of coffee. "Except for that notebook his aunt bought him a couple years ago. He seems to write in there quite a bit."

"That's interesting," I answer, not really paying attention. I'm in that sort of state where you choose to just not think about anything. You just stare into nothing, too exhausted to focus on anything real.

"Yes." She agrees. "Oh, would you mind helping me sort through the damage in our apartment once you're done with your breakfast?"

"Sure."

* * *

_"Don't play games with me!" Malcolm Frund bellowed at the forty-five year old blonde. "Where is she?!"_

_"For the millionth time, Malcolm." Miranda Puckett said angrily. She and the Frund brothers were in a conference room at Frund Brothers Co. Miranda was called in, and she came, but with no intention to reveal the whereabouts of her lost, in more ways than one, daughter. "Samantha ran away. I have no knowledge of where she is or where she might go."_

_"Surely you remember where you lived before we discovered Samantha." Jaryn suggested half-heartedly. It looked as if he wasn't in complete agreement with his brother._

_"We have lived in so many places that it would be impossible to figure out where exactly she'd go." Miranda lied through her teeth. She narrowed her eyes, proving she really was the mother of Sam Puckett. Their glares were almost identical, except Miranda glared through green eyes, while her daughter through blue eyes, inherited from her father. "May I go?"_

_"Not until our biggest moneymaker is back in our possession!" Malcolm screamed abruptly, slamming his fist on the conference table._

_"This isn't about the money, you twit." Miranda argued. She was becoming angrier with every Frund Brother word. "It was supposed to be about her happiness, and apparently it didn't exist anymore. Just let her be."_

_"So you __**do**__ know where she is!" Malcolm shouts._

_"No." Miranda crosses her arms. "I do not."_

_Malcolm rubs his chin, and soon afterwards, he snaps his fingers together. "Hey, Jaryn…how exactly did we discover Samantha again?"_

_"Um, I'm not sure." He answers uncertainly. Miranda's eyes widened slightly, but she regained her composure.__** iCarly.**_

_"It was that webshow…" Malcolm said to himself, running over to his computer quickly. "i…"_

_"Don't you think you should be focusing your attention on other, more important things?" Miranda speaks up suddenly._

_"Carly!" Malcolm snapped his fingers, ignoring Miranda. __**Oh no…**__ "It was iCarly. She did the show with her friends. Yes, a lead!" He grinned proudly, typing the iCarly address into the website bar before Miranda could stop him. Its home page popped up, revealing its latest videos…_

_The latest being __**yesterday**__._

_He clicked the video, and Samantha and a brunette-haired girl appeared in the video box._

_"I'm Sam, minus the accent!" Samantha beamed at the camera excitedly._

_"And I'm Carly, still feeling weird about this!" she brown-haired girl laughed._

_"Watch as we do the Macarena to a horror movie song!" Malcolm paused the video clip, smiling evilly. Miranda gulped. "Jaryn, where did our little gold magnet live before Hollywood?" Miranda looked over at Jaryn pleadingly. He seemed distracted. "JARYN!"_

_Jaryn jumped up, bumping his hand on the bottom of the table. "Ow! Jeez! She lived in Washington, okay?"_

_Malcolm nodded, smirking. He pulled out his phone and dialed. "Hello? This is the co-head of Frund Brothers Company. We're gonna need the soonest flight to Washington…tomorrow morning? Thank you. Reserve the tickets." He hung up and pressed down on his pager. "Geraldine, have the security team prepare for a little trip tomorrow. Double the group. Oh, and send one down here right now, to escort Ms. Puckett outside." He released the pager button._

_"You can't do this!" Miranda stood up, not knowing what else to do. "I won't allow it."_

_"Oh, like you can do anything." Malcolm rolled his eyes. He stared at the video clip of Sam and Carly, thinking about money, money, and money. Nothing more. "Looks like you aren't as clever as you thought, Miss Puckétte."_

* * *

I enter the Benson apartment, garbage bag in hand, behind Mrs. Benson. "So what do you want me to do?"

"Just look around for anything severely burnt, and put them in the bag." Mrs. Benson explains, picking up a half-burnt soup bowl and tossing it in her garbage carrier. "I'll take the downstairs, you take upstairs, okay?"

"Okay." I make my way up the stairs of their apartment and to the second floor, which, I soon realize, only consists of Freddie's room and his mother's room.

After disposing of a couple random burnt/broken things, I cautiously enter Freddie's room.

I've only been in here once when I was ten or so, to work on a group project, and when I was, he had all these incredibly dorky posters up. Albert Einstein, Nug-Nug (I think it's called Nug-Nug…whatever), and Charles Babbage (inventor of the first electric computer. Basically, the old Freddie's equivalent to Kelly Clarkson. Yeah, I didn't have any clue who he was either).

His walls are just blank now. Blank, like his eyes. And now, I really miss those posters.

I look around for a while, but I can't seem to find anything burnt.

I'm about to leave when I walk by his bookcase. There's a notebook sticking out, among all the dusty-looking books.

_"I haven't seen Freddie read or write pretty much anything in quite a while. Except for that notebook his aunt bought him a couple years ago. He seems to write in there quite a bit."…_

My conscience is telling me, no Sam, that's wrong. You can't read other people's thoughts and feelings about the past. It's too personal. You can't.

And something tells me that I've got to see what he's written. I've just got to. Freddie won't tell me what's on his mind, so I'll find out for myself.

And, hey.

Since when do _I_ think of consequences?

* * *

**A/N: Uh oh. It looks like the Frunds are closing in on Sam's whereabouts. That 'fake iCarly' somehow made its way to the site. If you remember, Freddie never bothered to pick up his computer…or unplug any cords…any live feed cords… But Washington is an entire state. She's still safe (for now).**

**I know this chapter lacked drama, but TRUST ME…next chapter will make up for it.**

**This is more of a passage into the next chapter, which is a REALLY important one.**

**OH, and, I don't know if any of you read Jennette McCurdy's blog on jennettemccurdy . com, but she had a Q&A, and guess what one of her fave songs is?!**

**Hollywood's Not America, by Ferras!:)**

**-Colors**


	15. Chapter 14

Summary: So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving

**Summary: **So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving.

**Disclaimer: **iDon't Own iCarly or any of it's characters. Only the ones I make up:)

**iRemember**

**Chapter Fourteen**

It's early Friday afternoon; three days later. I'm in the iCarly studio. And I've made a realization that I have major issues with opening books that might possibly change my outlook on life. First my photo album, now this.

But maybe it's also because I've done a _bad, bad thing_.

Back when I wasn't famous, I did a bunch of things that may or may not be considered "illegal." It depends on how you look at it. I've trashed teachers' cars (mostly Briggs), changed grades in the school system, and I even pulled the fire alarm once.

And I never felt guilty.

About a week ago, though it feels like an eternity ago, I stole clothes from a random movie trailer. Oh, and a wig.

Still no guilt.

Yet, I steal Freddie's stupid notebook, one that costs is, financially speaking, worth nothing, one that isn't illegal to steal, and the guilt is eating me alive. So much that I haven't even opened it yet. I'm torn; because I want to know the truth – the truth behind so many things that I can't even list. There's just so much _mess_, lately.

I can't help it that I'm curious.

_I have every right to be, don't I?_

I think I deserve to know what he's thinking, since, of course, he won't tell me himself.

Since the day he went back to school, we've been on silent, okay terms. He's almost always out, avoiding his problems and cares, as I've mentioned a few times, but when he's home, and he happens to be in the elevator, or we bump into each other in the hall…he gives me a small smile.

And I mean small. Like, if you weren't me, you wouldn't even be able to tell it's a smile at all. It's how I used to tell when I'd gone too far with my super funny insults – when we had our 'creative discussions,' I could always see a really small grin tugging at his lips. So that's how it was now – the smile minus the fighting.

Which is just fine with me, but all around, he's still not Freddie.

So that's why, when I found his notebook, I borrowed it. Just for a bit.

Pushing all my guilt aside, I notice the date at the top of the first page; September 9th, 2007. If I'm remembering right (and my memory is pretty good), that was the day before the very first iCarly episode.

_**This is NOT a journal. It is merely a book which I happen to be writing thoughts in because my mom is making me. This notebook was a 13**__**th**__** birthday gift from my Great Aunt Charlotte, who lives in Bernalillo, New Mexico and smells like toothpaste. The book's been sitting on my shelf, collecting dust fragments. My mom finally made me write in it.**_

_**Carly, Sam and I (well, the idea was Carly's) came up with this insanely brilliant idea today – to do a web show! Since I'm such a genius, I came up with the name – iCarly. My skills in technology will most definitely FINALLY win Carly's heart. Unfortunately my past attempts have failed. Probably because Sam keeps putting ludicrous thoughts in her head, by saying 'Carly will never love you.' She will. You just wait.**_

_**Surprisingly, Sam liked my name idea. She even said she liked it before Carly did. I would've considered it a nice gesture, if she hadn't insulted my clothes and called me 'their geek' afterward.**_

_**I am NOT a geek! And to prove it, I have thoroughly researched the term 'geek.' I came up with three definitions.**_

_**One: A peculiar or otherwise dislikeable person.**_

_**Two: A computer expert or enthusiast.**_

_**Three: A carnival performer who performs sensationally morbid or disgusting acts, such as biting off the head of a live chicken.**_

_**I'm not "peculiar." Peculiar means strange, and I feel it's perfectly acceptable to enjoy computer programming and camera work. Furthermore, I am a very likeable individual! I have many friends; Carly, Gibby, Jeremy, Carly…Sam, I guess?**_

_**I'm not a computer "expert," as an expert would involve professional experience, in labs or otherwise. I don't have that.**_

_**And NO. I DON'T bite the heads off of innocent chickens.**_

_**So you're wrong, Sam. TAKE THAT!**_

_**Oh, gotta run. Mom wants me to make a puzzle with her.**_

_**-Freddie**_

I smile. I'm sorry, but that's probably the funniest thing I've ever read in my whole life. By going that deep into disproving my "theory" (true statement), he'd actually given it more evidence. Ha, _Freddie_.

Suddenly I miss him being a dork all over again, but I quickly push thoughts out of my mind before flipping a couple of pages.

_**I'm bummed. I'm really, really bummed.**_

_**It turns out, Valerie was just using me to destroy iCarly, paving her way to become the hottest web show. She even tried to get Sam in on it. The only difference is Sam didn't fall for it like I did.**_

_**I dated Valerie for two reasons, which I will list. She liked ME (that doesn't happen to me often. Or…uh, at all) and to make Carly jealous. But she didn't like me, and Carly was HAPPY for me. Ugh.**_

_**Valerie really had me convinced that Sam hated me, I've got to say. I know she doesn't. We've known each other since we were really little. She just likes picking on me, and it gets on my nerves a lot, but she's a good person. And that was proved, when she looked me right in the eye and told me I was important to iCarly.**_

I feel a lump form in my throat, but I swallow it, like one of those foods that you don't want to swallow. But you do it anyway, to get rid of it.

_**Suddenly, I'm not so bummed anymore.**_

_**Oh, I hear Carly calling me. Music to my ears.**_

_**Later.**_

_**-Freddie**_

As I flip through the pages, I notice that his entries become less frequent. One each days turns to one each week, to each month, to every couple of months.

You'd think I would read all his entries, but right now, I'm only looking for something really important. I'm not too sure what exactly that is, but I'm definitely searching for it. I feel like I'm on auto-pilot, going somewhere but letting another force (maybe it's a subconscious force?) guide me.

I read the date on the thirtieth entry or so, and stare at it for a while, trying to figure out why the heck it looks so familiar. And then it hits me. It's the day I left.

_**I should be happy she's gone. All she ever did was harass me. She called me mean names, mocked me, and put me down whenever she wanted to. I was, and am, and will be nothing but the dork to her. So I shouldn't care that she's gone.**_

_**But I do.**_

_**I don't act like it. It wouldn't matter anyway. Her plane leaves in twenty minutes. I told my mom I was sick. I told Carly she didn't matter to me. I told HER she didn't matter to me. I've dug myself way too far in this. I don't know why I tried so hard to push everything away. I guess…**_

_**I guess I just hate goodbyes.**_

_**-Freddie**_

…

Sorry, I just needed a sec there to release the breath I was holding.

_'I guess I just hate goodbyes…' 'I guess I just hate goodbyes…'_

* * *

_"You'll be back, right?" Kindergartener Samantha Puckett asked her daddy, quietly. It was close to the middle of September, 2001, and Roger Puckett was about to leave for a business meeting._

_"Of course I will." Roger smiled down at his daughter. "I'll be back on Monday, kiddo. With a present for you!"_

_"I want a monkey." she announced, as if it was the most important thing in the world. "Okay?"_

_"What's the magic word?" he asked, laughing._

_Sam glared. "Please…"_

_Roger smiled again. "Good girl." He kissed Sam's forehead and gave her a hug._

_"Bye daddy, I'll see you Monday." Sam watched as her father boarded the plane, as it went up and up, and away. Soon, it was gone._

_Monday never came._

* * *

I look further in his notebook. There are at least three pages torn out. One of them not completely ripped out. There's about a quarter of the words left, vertically.

_**I have officially gone **_

_**so messed up. It's rea **_

_**which, by the way, I u **_

_**want to forget about her, **_

_**answered any of my ema **_

_**what happened with my **_

_**too late. It's like she's f **_

_**the same, even though **_

_**Whoa, wait, did I really j**_

_**-Freddie**_

I really wish I could see what he'd written there, because the next page consisted of 'I don't care' written about a hundred times.

Then…just a bunch of blank pages. _Maybe that's all that he wrote and – hang on._

_**She just came in. Like a memory that comes back and haunts you, like an old picture you randomly find in a drawer.**_

_**And she was standing there, a replica of all the pictures I've seen of her in magazines, or movies, or newspapers. Except, no. It wasn't the same. She wasn't the same. She was Sam.**_

_**She was here, and then she was gone. And for a while, I really thought I was over it. I have Valerie, after all. I know Valerie would never leave. But does that mean she SHOULD stay?**_

_**I broke up with her at school today. I actually went to school, and to my classes, and then I broke up with her. She didn't take it well, let's just say that.**_

_**It's not always about who's here and who's not. **_

_**I saw her again, and I swear, it all came back. In an instant. The memories of iCarly and watermelon with a spoon and Wake Up Spencer and messing with Lewbert and spray fan fights and food stealing and wedgies and our sabotage plans and goodbyes that never really happened but should've.**_

_**She fell asleep on my shoulder last night, after we looked through the photo album. My first instinct was to push her off, but then I decided that I wanted her here. I…I don't know how to explain it.**_

_**Except that –**_

The door swings open to the studio and immediately I throw the book to the ground.

"Freddie…" I manage to get out, sounding like a complete idiot. Everything in me seems to be going faster – my heart fate, my blood pulse, my thoughts, and my brain.

I didn't get to finish that sentence, but I've got a feeling that it would confirm a suspicion I've been thinking about for quite some time.

"I, uh, I left a pair of shoes up here…" he says awkwardly. "Oh, there." He walks over near his computer to find his sneakers lines up against the wall. He picks up the shoes and looks over at his equipment. "Is – this is my stuff, isn't it?"

I'm actually pretty surprised he's having a conversation with me, but at the same time, I'm too busy trying to make sense of everything I'd just read. "Yeah."

He looks at the stuff, lost in thought for a few seconds, and then sighs. "Whatever."

_Sure, Freddie. Come back for your shoes but leave your incredibly expensive tech equipment._

"Well, I'm off to put this away in my room."

"FREDWARD!" I hear Mrs. Benson shout from downstairs.

"Don't call me that!" he shouts back.

"Just clean your bookcase when you get the chance, alright?" Mrs. Benson asks tiredly. "It's incredibly messy."

"Fine." He rolls his eyes and leaves.

It takes me only a second to react – _he's going to his bookshelf! He'll see the book missing! Okay, calm. I'll just take the elevator down and hopefully get there before him._

I run out, notebook in hand, in a rushed panic. I run into the elevator, across the Shay's first floor (at that point, I can hear Freddie's footsteps coming down the stairs), out the door past Mrs. Benson, and I burst into their apartment.

Everything is a huge blur. I just need to get the notebook back up to Freddie's room before he knows I read it. It could ruin whatever progress we've made, and like Mrs. Benson said, any progress is progress.

I finally manage to reach Freddie's room, and I breathe heavily in and out.

I'm about to place the notebook back on the shelf, but something stops me.

That last sentence. _I need to know what it says_.

I frantically whip the book open and scramble to the page I was on.

_**Except that I care about her way more than I'm willing to think about.**_

"Sam?!" I freeze, dropping the book. I hold my breath. "Did – did you read that?!" I turn around slowly to see Freddie, standing in his doorway, looking confused and angry all at once.

"N-No!" I lie right through my teeth. "I found it at Carly's, you left it there."

He narrows his eyes, and suddenly I'm feeling incredibly vulnerable under his gaze. "I didn't bring it to Carly's, _Sam_." He says my name abruptly…angrily. "How much of it did you read?"

For once in my life, I want him to have the last word. I want to melt into the ground and go far, far away.

I should've known that when you go searching for answers, most often, it only leads to more questions. Such as the following.

"Well?" he asks, angrily. I bow my head, and his eyes widened. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted you!"

"Freddie, just listen!" I plead. I'm not one to beg, but this is an exception.

"I knew from the moment you stepped into my apartment last week that you'd just end up betraying me again! You're Samantha Puckétte after all –" He raises his voice even more, and all I can do is listen. "Oh yeah, what a great idea! I'll go visit my buddy Freddie, gain his trust again, and then go read his deepest secrets!"

"Whoa, hold on a second." I regain my composure, staring right into his eyes. "When did I ever betray your trust before this?!"

I quickly search my mind, trying to find an instance, but I couldn't.

"So maybe you haven't lied before," he starts angrily. "But you also never tell the truth! You're never straight forward! About _anything_!"

"Well look who's talking!" I scoff. By now, Spencer and Freddie's mother are standing outside, watching this all. But I'm not really paying them much mind. Anger is bubbling inside me. Anger for everything. For Freddie and Socko and Spencer and Mrs. Benson, and not being able to pick locks and having the Frunds chasing after me. I'm going to explode. It happens to most people that try so hard to stay calm. "You go around and pretend that you don't care about anything, but you do!"

"Shut up!"

"You said so in that book!"

"Shut _up_!" Freddie yells. "Like _you're_ so perfect! You went off to be famous and destroyed everything you left behind! You destroyed iCarly and Spencer's career and…everything!"

"It's not like I did it on purpose!" I shout, fuming. Everything has disappeared. It's just Freddie and me, and with every shout, the truth is getting closer. I can feel it. But I'm too busy being angry to stop it.

"You just _left_!" he continues, shouting. "You left, and _you never even asked me if I was okay with it_!"

"Oh, and were you not?!" I scream at him.

"That doesn't matter anymore! The point is, you just acted like you forgot all about me! You never emailed me or _anything_! And then you just showed up at my doorstep, expecting everything to go back to normal?!"

That is it.

That is absolutely, positively it.

Every ounce of anger I've ever had suddenly bursts out, and I step forward. "You ignored me all that week! You didn't even _bother_ to come say goodbye to me! What in the world –" I pause, and take a breath. "Would give me any reason to _email_ you?! _Huh?!"_

Silence.

"I emailed you every week for a whole six months." he said back, suddenly, quietly. He sounds sincere, but I don't care. He's wrong. He's lying.

I scoff. "And you call _me_ the liar. I only got one email from you, and it wasn't exactly a nice one."

"My computer told me you read them!" he argued. "What, someone hacked into your account and deleted them all? I'm sure."

I glare and shove the book into his chest. "Here, take your messed up problems back."

He looks at me; he's staring straight into my eyes, and I can't bare it. My eyes are burning. No, I _won't_ cry. Not in front of him. Not for him.

"Did you ever wonder why I came back?" I ask him quietly. He merely stares. "Well?"

"I don't know." He answers.

"You're so stupid!" I tell him, my voice rose again. I've lost it. All control. It's gone. "You're talking about how much my leaving wrecked our lives, but let me just say this." He's still looking at me. The silence is so thick that it's drowning me. I'm waiting, for a really long time, until I hear, "If you had said don't go…if you'd said those two stupid, simple words, even once, _I would've stayed_."

And then I run, because I realize that I'm the one who said it.

* * *

**A/N: Oh gosh. THAT was intense.**

**Sam finally admitted why she left and why she came back.**

**Freddie admitted, though not out loud, that he cared for Sam.**

**And Freddie hates goodbyes, just as Sam does, if you remember.**

**So, hmm. Freddie claims he WAS emailing Sam? Yet she didn't get any emails? What's up with that? By the way, there's been a couple of hints about Freddie emailing her for those months. Like in the flashback where Carly tells Freddie they should end iCarly, Carly says, "Maybe she'll answer our emails soon." See if you can think of any others.**

**What will happen now? Will there even be time for anything to happen?**

**Stay tuned!**

**-Colors**


	16. Chapter 15

Summary: So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving

**Summary: **So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving.

**Disclaimer: **iDon't Own iCarly or any of it's characters. Only the ones I make up:)

**iRemember**

**Chapter Fifteen**

_A year passed slowly for the young blonde. Everything was sad; everyone around her seemed sad._

_Her apartment painfully lacked his big, hearty laugh, his corny jokes, the clacking of his computer keyboard when he was at work in his office. It was as if someone had taken her life and carelessly ripped a large chunk away._

_She was smart for her age. She was one of those kids that just knew things. Maybe not in school, but in the real world._

_She knew that her dad was gone, and because of that, her mom was gone. She was afraid she'd leave next._

_Though Sam was tough, she was still at the tender age of six. She was lost and confused and no one was really around to help her these days._

_Not many people knew about the attic in Bushwell Plaza, and those who did probably didn't pay much mind to it now that the building had a larger storage area elsewhere._

_Sam first came upon it on the way to mail some letters in the lobby. The elevator was broken, and her mom sure wasn't going to do it, so she'd sent her five year old daughter to do it. Sam had no choice but to take the annoying stairs, in which you had to walk down the hallway of each floor in order to continue down the flights of stairs._

_When she was on the third floor, she discovered a set of stairs that pulled out from the ceiling, activated by a button on the left side of the wall she had curiously pushed (Actually, it was more so that she heard a tiny shout from one of the rooms, causing her to bump into the wall with the switch. Something about being sick of tick baths?). A small square on the ceiling had opened, and a creaky rope ladder fell from it, to reveal her very own haven._

_Sam Puckett spent days of weeks of months in the attic. It was her place. No one could take it away. It was dark and dirty, and probably unstable, but it was her place._

_On this particular day, Sam's mother told her they were moving out of the apartment. Away from her dad's memories and her attic._

_She'd reacted by running away, something she would eventually develop a knack for. She ran down the stairs, past all the rooms and into her attic._

_She couldn't stay there forever, but it would do._

_The little girl sat in the middle of her hideaway for a few moments before she burst into tears._

_They all told her she needed to move on and be tough…to pass it all by instead of facing it._

_But she missed her daddy. She didn't want to be strong right then._

_No one was around the see. No one had to see. So she sobbed and sobbed and sobbed._

_In fact, she sobbed so hard that she didn't even notice someone walk in._

_"Are you okay?" she heard a tiny, boy voice from somewhere in the attic. Her eyes widened in shock and she whipped her head around._

_"Whoever you are, go away! This is __**my**__ attic!" She quickly wiped her tears._

_"Do you need a tissoo?" he asked, accidentally mispronouncing 'tissue.' "My mommy's got a suitcase full of them."_

_"I don't need a tissue 'cause I wasn't crying." Sam crossed her arms, pouting. Who was this annoying kid, and why was he here?_

_"You were too." The little boy shot back._

_"Fine, but don't tell anybody, got it?"_

_"Why?"_

_Sam stared. "Only babies are supposed to cry. I'm not a baby."_

_"That's not true." The boy said, upset by her statement. "My mommy says it's okay to cry when you're sad. It helps you feel better."_

_"Look, you don't know me, kid." Sam snapped. Who was he to defy all her morals? "Do yourself a favor and just leave."_

_The boy stared at Sam, and slowly reached for her hand and squeezed it really quickly._

_"What was that for?" she asked, suddenly feeling very confused and weird._

_"My mom does that to me after I cry," he explained. "It helps me. Bye." He got up and left the attic._

_"I don't need any help!" She called after him. But he was already gone._

_She'd unknowingly meet him much later on though, once the Shay's moved in and she returned back to the Plaza._

_He wouldn't remember, but she would, just barely._

_She would only remember that that little boy, whoever he was, was the friendliest face she'd seen in a long, long time._

* * *

I've been in here for a while now. Or maybe it hasn't been a while. I haven't been keeping track, so I really don't know.

And it's not like it matters anyway.

Most people don't know this, but back when I was really little, I used to live in Bushwell Plaza. I lived a couple floors below the Bensons, so I didn't know them yet.

I lived on the sixth floor happily with my parents 'til I was five. Suddenly our family lost a member, and a year later, when I was six, my mom had us move to a building a couple streets down.

She never mentioned why, but even then I was smart enough to know. I'd been through a lot of hurt, even when I was that small. But hurt, as painful as it is, makes you stronger and wiser in the end.

So I knew all along that my mother just wanted to forget; that it was too hard to face all the memories in that apartment day after day. So she left it and all my dad's stuff behind. And that's when she stopped being a _mommy_. I didn't recognize her anymore. She wasn't my mom without my dad, living in our home.

I don't think she ever really accepted his death. She just chose to avoid it. We never talked about it. When someone you love dies, aren't they supposed to still be there in a way? That's how you make it through; looking back and talking about the good times.

My mom and I…we don't work like that, I guess.

People used to tell me I looked so much like him. My dad, I mean. Maybe that's why she never pays much attention to me. Maybe that's why I used to be at Carly's more than my own home. Maybe that's why she would stay home and watch television instead of coming to my oboe concerts (I quit anyway). I gave up eventually, because sometimes, you just do. I was, and still am, forced to look after and defend myself, and _only_ myself, at all costs.

That's what I was taught. It's you against the world, and when you're losing, just pretend it doesn't bother you.

But guess what?

I'm losing, and it _does_ bother me.

It bothers me a whole lot.

So now you know. Now you know that I'm not as tough as I try to be. Shock, shock, surprise, surprise. There's a real person behind those big, flashy photo shoots, and those even bigger walls.

But both the photo shoots and the walls are gone now, because I'm up in this attic, this dusty, old-looking attic that I haven't been in since I was really little, and guess what I'm doing?

Crying. Silently, that is, but there's no denying it.

This is the part of the story where everybody raises their eyebrows and mouths '_what_'? I'm not one to cry. I don't cry. And throughout my whole life, I've been forcing feelings away, tossing that little pang in my chest to the back of my mind.

But all the while, they just build and build and build.

And then, you explode.

You've got to realize at some point that there can't possibly be enough room inside of you for all that hurt without losing your sanity. Or yourself.

Or both.

So raise those eyebrows all you want, but its happening.

The floor of the attic is a light-colored wood, and I can see my tears fall from my face, hitting the floor and disappearing among the wet spot that my tears have created. I hit the spot in frustration, sort of hoping all the tears would jump up, crawl back into my eyes, and we could just pretend they hadn't escaped through them, taking with them all my disguises.

Here's the truth. I'm not Samantha Puckétte, the tiny blonde with a wide smile who appears to have it all and more. I'm not The Amazing Sam, who can soar from dilemma to dilemma, fixing everything and everyone. I'm not some whiny girl, permanently scarred for life by her problems. I'm also not a juvenile delinquent with spit balls and spray paint instead of a heart.

I'm just _me_. I always have been, despite everything. And, like it or not, I always will be.

After a while, I take a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. I wipe my puffy eyes and try to rid my mind of everything he'd said. Everything _I'd_ said. All of which, I think, was too much.

But I _can't_. Crying kind of lets your guard down. Crying really means you've accepted the hurt, the sadness inside of you. After that, there's no real way to leave. You've just got to keep going.

As much as it bothers me to admit, maybe there's a _reason_ I can't forget it. I can't forget _him_.

I never did, anyway. All three years. I'll openly admit it. I never tried to forget about him. It's just…now that we've put so much out in the open, I guess I'm afraid.

Everyone's first reaction to fear is trying to avoid all that instills it, to run, hoping to forget about whatever's scary. Don't even try to deny it.

Finally, I'm out of tears, and I sit back, examining the attic and all its contents. It's really nothing special; a couple of old crates, dusty and/or broken apartment furniture, shattered wall hangings. Nothing but the past, which so happens to be everything.

It's a funny thing, me and the past. No matter where I go or what I do, I can never escape it. I always somehow end up back where I started.

Ten years ago, I sat in this very attic, thinking it was the last time. But I'm back. I may have left, but I'm back. And I think that means more than _just_ staying.

_"You just left! You left, and you never even asked me if I was okay with it!"_

_Was it really my responsibility to ask anyway? If he didn't want me to go, he should've just said so. But obviously he wanted me to leave. I don't care what his stupid journal entry said._

_Or..._

_Or maybe he was scared. Maybe he __**is**__ scared. Just like me._

The journal is his way of getting something out without actually...letting it out. And I stripped him of that.

It's like the Freddie who wrote all those entries is so different from the Freddie that just screamed about me never being straight forward (although, I guess he's right…). They're like two different people; alter egos. If only I knew which one he truly wanted to be.

The attic has a small window, and I can hear a couple of crickets chirping, which means it's night time. I must've been up here for about six hours or something. Maybe Carly or Spencer or Mrs. Benson is looking for me.

Whatever. Everyone's looking for me, including myself. What makes _them_ so special?

Despite what I'm thinking, I _am_ curious, so I carefully crawl over to the small square where I'd closed pulled the ladder back in. It was an old routine; push the button, watch the ladder fall, climb it, pull up the ladder, shut the door. It'd been planted permanently in my mind after doing it everyday for a full year.

Anyways, there's a little crack in the square entrance to this attic, which I used to use to see if the coast was clear to leave. I lean down, hearing some muffled voices

Mrs. Benson is speaking to Carly at her door.

"Has she called yet?" Freddie's mother asks, worried.

"No." Carly shakes her head. "Ugh, I can't believe this. She left all over again." My stomach drops. How could she think that? Unless, she doesn't know about what happened between Freddie and me.

"I'm sure she's just somewhere, trying to clear her head." Mrs. Benson replies tiredly. I must be keeping them up. I feel so bad.

But I like it up here. It's quiet, and there's no Freddie's or journals or bossy managers or brussel sprouts. I like the fact that I can peer down into my life for a while, as opposed to living it.

"_Sure…_" Carly rolls her eyes and crosses her arms stubbornly. "And to think I thought she'd changed."

"She hasn't." Mrs. Benson answers. "Not really. Change by force never really changes a person. Example." She gestures to Carly's hair, which is now brunette.

Carly narrows her eyes. "I haven't taken my shower today yet. That's when I apply my dye. And since when is it your business?" Mrs. Benson puts her hands on her hips and stares, waiting. Carly's arms sag as she sighs. "I'm worried about her. She's not one to run without a fight first." _Oh, but there was one._

"She had a run-in with my son," Mrs. Benson explains carefully. "She'll be back though. Would you and your brother like to help continue searching?"

"Fine." Carly sighs. "What about…your _son_? Is he going to help?" Mrs. Benson shakes her head. "Figures. Spencer!"

I lift my head and crawl to a far corner in the attic. I'd heard enough. I should be surprised, but I'm not. Since when has Freddie Benson run after me?

The room is now pitch black, aside from some moonlight pouring in.

My stomach growls, but I ignore it, as the room gets darker and darker.

No, wait, my eyes are just closing.

I let out a yawn, and then, I'm enclosed in the darkness, to my dreams.

* * *

_Valerie Sanders was not one to tamper with. Though she wasn't necessarily a Sam Puckett, Valerie did have an undeniable talent of seeking revenge. Freddie obviously didn't have this knowledge when he uttered the four worst words in a relationship to her._

_"We need to talk," he said seriously._

_"Ooh, okay, what about?" she gave him a flirty smile, which didn't faze him in the least. He looked tired, like he'd been up all night._

_Freddie closed his eyes, indicating that he was, in fact, tired. This thought brought him back to watching a peaceful (ex?)-star sleeping on his shoulder. He shook the thought away. Nothing was making sense._

_"Here's the truth," he stated, and Valerie's eyes narrowed in confusion. "I can't go on like this."_

_"Like __**what**__?" She was obviously agitated. Truth was, she'd seen this coming. Something had been off ever since that stupid Puckétte girl came trampling in on her and her Freddiebear._

_"Pretending." Silence. Freddie stared at the ground, not able to concentrate on a single task. "I…I don't think this is going to work out."_

_Valerie's heart burned with rage. "You're breaking up with me?! Again?!"_

_"Look, I –"_

_"Is it someone else?" she asked, disgusted. "Huh?"_

_"I…" He searched his mind for an answer, but even if there was one, it was too scary to think about. So he took a sharp left and avoided it. "I don't know."_

_"Oh, god." She clenched her fists tightly. "Please don't tell me it's about…__**her**__."_

_"I don't know what you're talking about."_

_"This is all her fault!" Valerie ranted to herself loudly. People in the hallway turned to stare. "Move along, losers!" They rolled there eyes and continued on their way. She faced Freddie again. "Just let go of her already. You're acting like a dork."_

_"Don't call me a dork!" No one. No one. No one was allowed to call him 'dork.' Subconsciously, it was always reserved for her. He would never admit it though._

_"Well, you let __**her**__!" Valerie argued._

_"She's different!"_

_"How would you even know?! You haven't seen her in, like, three years! No one has!"_

_"Valerie, were you not there when she walked in last week?"_

_"That was –" She began to argue that that was not Sam, but Miss Prissy Puckétte, when realization dawned on her. "Sam Puckett is Samantha Puckétte? Seriously?"_

_"You didn't know that?!" he asked, exasperated. This whole thing was driving him nuts. Or maybe away from being nuts. He wasn't sure. "She's even staying in Carly Shay's apartment."_

_"Well, so-__**rry**__." She rolled her eyes. "She was just so ugly and tomboyish back then. I couldn't tell."_

_"Don't talk about her like that!" Freddie shouted angrily. He regained his composure and looked her straight in the eyes. "Face it, Valerie. You don't know me and I don't know you. We're not meant to be."_

_"I know loads about you." She said desperately._

_"What's my favorite color?" he asked. Sam's voice rang in his ears from the night before. __**'**__**So, what, Freddie? You expect me to believe you took it because it's green, your favorite color?'**_

_"What does that have to do with anything?" she asked, annoyed._

_"Do you?" he asked again. And then waited._

_"Red?" she asked hopefully._

_"Bye Valerie." He turned and walked away, for the first time, not regretting it._

_Valerie was, in simplest terms, not happy. __**What makes Sam Puckett so special? What does she have that I don't?**_

_Sam Puckett had taken Freddie away from her…twice. It wasn't fair. __**She doesn't deserve him if I don't! She doesn't deserve anything? Why couldn't she have just stayed in Hollywood where she belongs?**_

_Her jealousy grew more and more throughout the school day._

_Finally, she was home, but that didn't really help. __**Maybe I'll just go watch TV.**_

_Still upset, she sat on the floor of her two-bedroom apartment and clicked the television on. She casually flipped through the channels. __**Girly Cow… That's So Maven… What Not To Put On… The Puckétte Story… iCurly… Wait! The Puckette Story?!**_

_She quickly went back to that channel and watched. With each word said by her fabulous-looking reporter, her smirk grew bigger and more revengeful._

_**So Puckett's gone A-WOL. **__She thought to herself. __**And there's a reward…hmm… **_

_Surely Freddie would have no choice but to come crawling back into her impatient arms if his little…distraction…were to be whisked right back where she came from._

_"If you have any information on the whereabouts of the blossoming star, please contact the Frund's' search line; 1-800-PUCKETTE." The reporter stated._

_Valerie had it._

_The information. Freddie had given it to her but a few hours ago._

_She sat on her floor, contemplating for a while._

_"Mom?!" she shouted, turning her back backwards towards her stairs._

_"I'm on the phone!" her mother shouted back._

_"Well, give it to me when you're done!" she demanded loudly. She turned back to the television. "I'm going to need it."_

* * *

_**BANG.**_

I sit up abruptly, looking around. It's still very dark out. Apparently I'd fallen asleep, because something just woke me up.

Suddenly, there are muffled voices from below, and my heart pounds in my ears. _Who would be up at this hour?_

_**BANG, BANG, BANG.**_

I jump. _What __**is**__ that?_

Careful not to make any noise, I crawl over to the crack in the attic floor and stare down the hall.

"Open up!" a scarily familiar voice shouts. "This is Samantha Puckétte's security team! We demand a search!"

My breath catches in my throat. The attic is getting smaller and smaller…

_No_.

My eyes widen and I quickly scan the vicinity, searching.

Sure enough, Malcolm and Jaryn Frund are standing between Carly and Freddie's apartment, surrounded by a team of security officers.

But they're knocking on the wrong door. _They're knocking on Freddie's_.

_How did they find me? I don't understand…_

"Are you sure Samantha is hiding in this apartment?"

"Definitely, I saw her myself." _Valerie_.

Rage fills my every vein, and all I want to do is scream, or punch something, but I hold back. No one knows about the attic. Maybe it'll save me, as it has saved me before, from losing myself.

"And iCarly was broadcasted from Seattle." A random security guy points out. I can't believe they traced me back to here. It's not fair. It's _not_.

"Yeah, so let's find her a take her home." Another adds.

I feel a single tear fall, and I'm straining not to cry out.

I don't need to go back home. I'm already home.

Valerie cuts in. "I'll check the other floors." And she's gone.

In a heartbeat, I hear the door open to reveal Freddie.

My mind rewinds to a couple hours ago, and suddenly everything is spinning.

"We have heard from a reliable source that you have been _housing_ our client." Malcolm begins calmly, eyes narrowed. "Samantha Puckétte."

"We would like her back in our possession." A security guard adds, the same one who mentioned iCarly. My stomach turns and flips. It's like I'm simply an item, a _thing_ that you can just carry place to place.

I'm a person, named Sam, with thoughts and feelings. And memories. When are they going to realize that they just _can't_ change that?

"Before you answer, son." Malcolm continues. "Let me just say that Samantha has a contract, and you assisting her in breaking it in against the law." He studies Freddie's face. "You'll regret it harshly if you lie."

"Well?" Jaryn asks, looking impatient but somehow…not so into what's happening.

"We're here to help her." Malcolm tells him. "I'm sure she's been a burden to you. We're here to put her back in her place, to make her remember where that place is. It can't possibly be here."

Freddie's eyes narrow, and then his face is unreadable, like it's been for quite a while.

All my life, I've been acting on impulse. But when I do this next thing, I honestly don't know _what_ I'm acting on.

I slowly, quietly open the square door to my escape, and stick my head out. All the guards and my managers are focused on Freddie, so they do not see me.

Freddie sees me immediately, and he just stares. He stares at me, and through me, and honestly, it's hard to bare.

'Don't tell them anything. They're lying.' I mouth pleadingly over and over. He looks away, and I bite my lip, feeling defeated, and I slowly close the door again.

And then I wait. And I'm still.

I've run out of places to run.

Now I'm stuck. And the only one who can save me is the boy I called stupid today.

* * *

**A/N: Please feel free to hate Valerie. I know I do.**

**Oh boy, so much intensity in this chapter. I don't really have much to say.**

**Sam's been cornered. And it might just be Freddie's fault. He told Valerie where she was staying..**

**What about you guys? What are your thoughts? And will Freddie tell Malcolm?**

**Only time will tell. Or my next update. Whichever comes first.:)**

**-Colors**


	17. Chapter 16

Summary: So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving

**Summary: **So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving.

**Disclaimer: **iDon't Own iCarly or any of it's characters. Only the ones I make up:)

**iRemember**

**Chapter Sixteen**

My eyes are closed, almost like I'm hoping maybe, just maybe, it's not real if I can't see it. Yet still, I know it is, all the while. It's happening, a few feet below me.

There's been silence for a long time – or maybe it just seems like it's been a long time, who knows? – and part of me wants to open my eyes and make sure they're still there. Freddie and Frund; The two most problematic F's in my life.

The reason I'm so freaked out is because I sort of know what's coming. I can't believe I was stupid enough to show Freddie right where I was. I gave him the perfect opportunity to reveal where I'm hiding; to send me right back to Hollywood, where he's probably wanted me all along. Out of sight, out of mind.

I guess I have no choice but to wait, to hear his words. _'She's up there,' he'll say. 'Take her.'_

I should've known all along, really, that you can't escape anything forever.

Especially when you're a _"gold-mine"_ like me. Cue rolling of eyes.

Suddenly I hear Malcolm's voice again; louder, harsher. "Answer me, kid. Do you have _any_ information pertaining to the whereabouts of Samantha?! _Is she here?!_"

There's a pause. I wait.

"You said if I _lie_, I could get arrested."

"_Will_." Malcolm grumbles. "_Will_ get arrested." I hear a chorus of agreements, probably from security, over the thumping of my own heart.

"You're asking me if Samantha Puckétte showed up at my door?" he asks, almost comically." _Aw, man_… "_That_ Samantha?"

"_Yes _that Samantha!" Malcolm shouts quickly, causing me to jump. Then I stay still, in case someone heard any noise.

"Samantha _Puckétte_ isn't here." He states. "Another Samantha showed up a while ago, but I swear to you, she's completely different than that stuck-up girl you're looking for."

My eyes snap open, and suddenly, I can sense everything around me. The crickets outside, the coolness of the attic, that stupid humming noise silence, the dirt attic floor, and the used-to-be nerd down a level who just defended, no, _saved_, my butt.

I just knew that deep down, somewhere, he was still the incredibly smart Freddie Benson I argued with. He probably doesn't realize what he revealed, but only a really quick-witted person would be able to come up with such a genius stretch of the truth. I would know.

He wasn't lying, is the thing. When I arrived, thinking I was Samantha Puckétte, trying to find myself, I didn't even realize that I already had. Just by being there, just by leaving and going back to that people I care about, I was Sam. And I _am_ Sam.

And Freddie must've known that, even before I did.

Wow.

Malcolm sighed impatiently, glaring at nothing in particular. "Alright then, I guess we'll –"

And that's when it happens. Just when I'm feeling free, just when – oh _gosh!_ – something might actually be going right, it happens.

Like I said, this attic is old. It's probably been here since the building was made. And…old things tend to break when there's weight on them, after a while.

Which is how I find myself hearing a crack one moment, and on the ground the next, at Malcolm's feet.

I groan, and the first thing I hear is, "Sam, _run_!"

So I run, for the first time, not regretting it. I run past Freddie, past security and their grabbing hands, past Malcolm and his angry words, down the stairs, past Michael, who says something I can't understand, past Bushwell Plaza. I can hear footsteps rumbling behind me, and I know exactly who they belong to.

"Get back here, Samantha!" Malcolm shouts angrily, and so loudly that I can hear it over the wind in my ears. I can sense the security team, right by his side, running. They're running after me, after the money they so desperately want.

But I push forward. It's dark. The streetlights are off. It's probably about two in the morning. Everything is blurred around me, and it seems like all the noises are melting into one another, meaningless…Malcolm and his screaming, a dog barking, shouts from buildings to keep it down, and the crickets, still chirping away. Almost like they're cheering me on.

Suddenly, my foot hits something in the darkness, and I fall.

It's over. It's done. They found me.

I lose.

* * *

_"I don't want to." Seven-year-old Freddie Benson said in a huff. Sam, his best friend, wanted to play tag. He did not._

_"Why not?" Sam, equal of age with him, asked stubbornly. "Only dorks don't like to play tag."_

_"I'm not a dork!" Freddie whined. "I just think it's stupid to run away from your friends!"_

_"You're afraid of us running away?" she asked, giggling._

_"I'm not afraid!" he shot back defensively. She continued to laugh. "Well, I don't know."_

_"Fredward," Sam started, her laughter dying down. "No matter how fast I run or you run, you know we'll catch each other __**eventually**__, don't you?"_

* * *

"Sam? Sam!"

"She'd better wake up, or I will sue your brains out! Do you hear me, this –"

"Freddie, tell me everything that happened, I have to –"

Everyone's voice falls over me at once, and I can feel someone shaking me. It's too loud.

I groan, and suddenly everything is silent. My eyes open, and I'm in Carly's apartment, on the couch, with Freddie, Carly, Mrs. Benson, Spencer, Malcolm, Jaryn, and my mom (_what?_) staring down at me. Carly, Spencer, my mom and Freddie's mom with concern, Freddie expressionless, Malcolm with utter anger, Jaryn with a mixture of shock and confusion.

It's weird how you can wake up to find everyone who has affected your life the most, positive and negative, in one room.

I immediately sit up, trying to figure out what to do. I look towards the door, noticing the security guards blocking it. Obviously, running isn't the way to go.

"We have a contract, Samantha." Malcolm says, coldly, unfeeling. I want to scream, but I resist.

I notice that my mom is crying, or has been, and my stomach drops to the floor.

"I tried to stop them." She says shakily. "I really did, Sammy. I got on a plane as soon as I –"

"Be quiet." A guard shouts, approaching her.

"Don't order my mom around!" I yell, suddenly very protective of her.

"Oh, if you think you'll have a say in anything from here on, you're in for a shock." Malcolm says, in a voice so mocking that I can hardly take it. "Say goodbye to your free will, Miss Puckétte. We were easy on you before, but if you're not going to cooperate with us, we have no choice. There's too much at stake if there's any chance of you running away every time life gets a little hard."

"Like what? _Money_?" I growl.

"Here's how it's going to work." Malcolm says quietly, getting right in my face. "We're going to give you today to gather your things, and say a permanent farewell to your…" he glances over at everyone around him. "_people_, under the supervision of guards. Then, we're going to fly back to California and pretend this never happened." I glare, trying to find words, but as awful as it is, I've always felt powerless against Malcolm Frund. He's everything I've hated for years, ever since that day I tried to run out the door, and sometimes it's scary. Like now. He smirks triumphantly. "Good to know you've remembered where you belong." He pats me on the hand, as if I'm a dog, one that he can just boss around; one that can speak, but not in any way that would ever faze him. I swat his hand off, glaring as he leaves, Jaryn, timid-looking, behind him. "I'll be back tomorrow, seven A.M. sharp. Fernando, Greg, Marcus, Sebastian – you know what to do." And then they're gone with the slam of the door. I watch as Fernando/Greg/Marcus/Sebastian positions himself in front of the door. The others search the building, finding any possibly places I could escape from: windows, vents, etc.

Mrs. Benson, Spencer, and Carly breathe out, as if they've been holding their breath. My mother is crying silently, away from the scene, almost like she's too ashamed to be a part of whatever is about to take place. Part of me wants to walk over and show her just how wrong she is, but there's too much going on to act on it. Freddie is standing where's he's been standing since I woke up; almost near the couch, but not completely. He looks deep in thought, and I feel myself wondering exactly what about. Is he reflecting on now, on here? Or is he thinking back, to then, to when everything was, more or less, alright?

Carly approaches me. "Sam?"

I look up at her and give a small smile, hating how weak and defeated I feel. I don't like the feeling at all. It's not me. I'm angry, but I'm just too tired to carry on. I feel like giving up, for once in my life, and I really don't want to. "Hey kid."

"Spencer's a lawyer." She says seriously, as if that statement alone could solve anything. "A _good_ lawyer. He'll find the contract, he'll find a loophole, and –"

And then I recite the words that pretty much define everything that I'd wanted to happen in this last week. "Easier said than done."

"Don't be like that." Mrs. Benson says softly. "I don't think anyone in this room would be willing to watch you leave again." She glances at Freddie. "_Anyone_."

I know she's making an effort, but the truth is, she's just too late.

"I'll call the agency immediately." Spencer adds, making me wish he'd just said something like, 'I run to the phone!' Anyway, he calmly walks over to the phone and begins dialing. "It's eight o'clock, they'll be in. They should be able to get a copy of the contract ready within the hour, and I'll just – Hello, this is Spencer T. Shay. I –"

I stop listening and stand up, suddenly overwhelmed, feeling so many emotions that I can't possibly keep down, or even describe. I'm not used to feeling so much all at once. I'm really not.

When I first stepped out of _Le Beau_, I thought I was _so_ ready. I was so sure everything would somehow work out that I didn't even plan things out. I just stepped onto the sidewalk and walked, wanting to retrace my steps.

But nothing can ever really go back to normal. Nothing.

And that thought alone hit me the hardest.

I'm still standing up, and everyone is staring at me, which I all of people, being Samantha Puckétte, should be used to. But it's different.

It's all different, yet completely the same, knowing that tomorrow, I'm going to be on a plane, with the Frunds, right back where I used to be. Almost like I never walked away at all.

Almost.

"Don't even bother." I state robotically, as Spencer hangs up the phone. "I give up."

And suddenly, Freddie turns to face me, and it looks like he's going to say something, when –

"Malcolm? Jaryn?" a peppy voice calls out. "I checked the sixth and seventh floor but she wasn't –" The door opens, catching Sebastian (or maybe it's Marcus?) off guard, knocking him over, as Valerie waltzes in. "Oh, uh…hey."

I, along with everybody else, turn to stare at her. _Why is she here? And looking for me? _It doesn't click.

But suddenly, I remember. It's simple math, actually.

Sam shows up, plus Freddie dumps Valerie, plus multimillion dollar reward, plus Frunds showing up equals…

_Oh my god_.

"It was you." I say slowly. "_You_ told them, didn't you?"

"Well, of course." She rolls her eyes. "It had to be done."

"You…little…" Suddenly, the anger rumbles out like an avalanche and I pounce toward her, ready to claw her eyes out, because she's destroyed all I'd worked for, but then, I feel a pair of gentle arms grab my shoulders, holding me back.

"She's not worth it." I hear Freddie say quietly. Valerie, wide-eyed, turns and runs. I would've run after her, but quite frankly, I'm tired of running after anything. So I just fall back, tired, against Freddie, until I realize what I'm doing and pull away, angrily.

"Oh, she isn't, is she?" I snap. He looks confused, but whatever. I don't care. "Well, okay then, _Freddie_! Humor me. If she's not worth it, why did you date her? Because if you hadn't, I wouldn't be leaving…_again_." I send him and glare, waiting for him to crumble, but he remains there, hard, cold, and everything I _know_ he isn't. At least, what I remember he isn't. "I'll be upstairs."

Somewhere deep inside me, I know that it's not really his fault, and what I'd said was actually sort of stupid. In fact, I probably should've thanked him. He _did_ try to save me. But sometimes, it's just easier to feel angry than it is to just feel.

I slam the door of the iCarly studio and lock it. I look around, feeling all the memories of eighth grade and web shows and so much more, thinking how comforting it used to be. But now it feels ghostly, knowing that I'd be leaving it behind, again, come tomorrow.

I hear a sound coming from the door and swerve around. Before I can say anything, Carly is inside, hairpin in hand.

She grins slightly. "You've taught me well."

"Apparently too well." I answer quietly. "I kind of wanted to be alone…" I sink to the floor, wishing it would just swallow me, and I could stay there.

Carly sits herself right next to me and puts her arm around my shoulder, and her voice rings in my ears from when we were ten and free, and I had to get my tonsils taken out.

_"It'll be okay,"_ she'd said, so sure, so completely sure, that it would be. _"It'll be over before you know it. And then after, Spencer said he'd bring in some ice cream with ham!"_

"Carly," I say softly, my voice shaking slightly. "What am I going to do?"

And I wait for an answer from the Carly that knows everything; the solution to every problem, the medicine to every bruise, the peacemaker. Because that's what I need; an answer, plain as day.

But instead, "I don't know…" she says. "We'll just have to hope for the best."

My head leans on my best friend's shoulder, and suddenly I realize that, in life, there really isn't ever a definite answer. There just _isn't_.

As much as it sucks, there's never a perfectly clear path to that ice cream with ham.

* * *

_A group of people sat waiting in the Shay's apartment for a young blonde girl to emerge from unconsciousness._

_"I hope you know how much trouble you're in, kid," Malcolm said harshly to Freddie. "You lied. You were hiding our Puckétte all along."_

_"She doesn't belong to you." Freddie answered, annoyed. "Why couldn't you just let her be?!"_

_Malcolm shrugged. "That's business." Suddenly, realization dawned on him. "Hey, you're that kid…the kid who worked the camera on iCarly and was harassed by Samantha…Fredward, wasn't it?"_

_"I prefer Freddie," he grumbled. "Just shut up."_

_"Oh, so you're Freddie." Malcolm said, as if just realizing. "You're the Freddietech kid that kept emailing our goldmine."_

_"She's not a –" he stopped. "What?"_

_"Yeah, sorry we deleted all your emails." He shrugged. "We couldn't risk having Samantha be affected by them." And then Malcolm walked over to Spencer, to, of course, remind him that he would be sued, leaving Freddie, shocked._

_**So she really **__hadn't__** seen those emails.**_

_He looked over at Sam, suddenly overtaken by guilt._

_"I'm sorry." He whispered, because things were usually easier to say when no one could hear._

* * *

**A/N: I hope that came out well. This chapter's a build-up to the next, which I promise will NOT disappoint you.**

**-Colors**


	18. Chapter 17

Summary: So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving

**Summary: **So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving.

**Disclaimer: **iDon't Own iCarly or any of it's characters. Only the ones I make up:)

**iRemember**

**Chapter Seventeen**

The door to the studio flies open, and in steps my mother.

"Mind…" she clears her throat and her eyes fall on me. "Mind if…I cut in?"

I look up and study her a moment. It's the first time I've had a good look at her since she showed up hours ago, and I can hardly believe what I see.

She's my mom, that much I know for sure. But her eyes are tired and bloodshot, her hair is a complete disaster, her mascara is run all over her face…She looks like she's missing something. Or someone.

With a flash, my mind pictures Mrs. Benson, with her own tired eyes and lack of someone, speaking about Freddie as if he was a lost friend, someone she could no longer recognize in real life; only in memories. She was trying to smile and hide it as I spoke to her, but you could tell it was hurting her. And as I discovered, as Carly discovered, and as I'm hoping Freddie will one day learn, hiding and running only hurts you in the end.

And now my mom, the woman I watched all my life bounce through life, modeling swimsuits, chomping on all our food, pretending it didn't bother her in the least bit that dad was gone, is standing before me, revealed.

And you know what? She looks more like a mom to me than she ever has.

"Oh, of course." Carly gets up, and I shoot her a look, hoping maybe she'd stay. She doesn't respond. Typical. "I'll see you later, Sam." And then she exits, leaving me and my mom together.

I stand up to face her, wondering whether I'd be lectured, or watch her burst into tears. But surprisingly, she leaps forward and pulls me into a tight hug. I tense at first, because my mom and I, well, we're not exactly the "hugging" type of mom and daughter. But then, it's comforting, in a way. Somehow, a mom's hug just makes everything better, at least for the moment. I've missed that feeling.

"You had me so scared," she whispers, and we pull away, but she's still holding my shoulders, as if I'll disappear again if she lets go. "You just…" she chokes back tears and takes a deep breath. "I didn't know where you were."

_But wait…_ "B-But the news article…you said I was done…I thought you –"

"Well sure, I had an idea!" she cuts me off. "But I didn't know. I needed to _know_. I looked everywhere I could, but the Frunds were tracing my every step. I didn't want to come here, because it's where I thought you were. But I looked anyway…I just did" she stops rambling for a moment, staring at me, and when I stare back, for some reason, I think back to when my dad told me how similar my eyes are to hers. "I thought I'd lost you. And all I could think was, no, not you. Not my Sam. Not her too. Please, don't take her away…" Her eyes water, and I can feel mine water too, but I hold back. I hate crying. She finally lets go when I don't answer and sighs. "I'm so sorry, Sam."

"Don't be." I tell her, and I mean it, too.

"It was all my fault." She continues sadly, as if I hadn't said anything at all. "I should've known. You came and told me you wanted to stay after all, and I was so wrapped up in whatever I was wrapped up in, but I should've known, just by seeing your eyes." She runs a hand through her hair and paces. "I'm a failure as a mother." The tears are in full flow now, down her cheeks and onto the floor, and my heart hurts for her.

I used to always think my mom and I were sort of…resistant to sadness and crying. "_Puckett women are strong_," she would say, laughing. "_The strongest_." But now I know that we're just like everybody else. Everybody cries and everybody hurts every so often. Because without the hurt, we'd never be able to rise up and learn, to _become happy_.

"Mom." I grab her arm, to stop her from pacing. "I'm here now. I'm okay." She stops crying and listens for the very first time in my life. I can just tell. "_We're_ okay." We go in for another hug, and I can feel my mother's silent sobs, because I've had them. We've all been there.

Suddenly, I can feel my eyes watering again, and I can't bare to hold it in anymore.

"Mom?" I whisper into our embrace and her sobs. "I miss dad."

And for a moment, I don't think she'll answer, because this is the first time his death and absence has been brought directly to open air and ears between us. We've always avoided it, but the truth is, Puckett's are unforgettable. My dad was a Puckett…_is_ a Puckett.

"Me too." She sobs. "Me too."

* * *

_**TO: ToughCookie101**_

_**FROM: FreddieTech87**_

_**Hey Sam,**_

_**Okay, before you take your computer and chuck it out the window and/or at some random old lady, hear me out.**_

_**I'm really sorry I didn't say goodbye to you, and that I acted like such a jerk the whole week. I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I just didn't want you to leave. Carly would miss you too much…okay, and me.**_

_**It would've been really hard to say goodbye to you. Can you ever forgive me? Or maybe, come to visit, so I can say some form of a goodbye?**_

_**-Freddie**_

_"Jaryn, are you checking Samantha's emails?" Malcolm Frund entered Jaryn Frund's office, holding an ugly, green coffee mug._

_"Yeah, I'm doing it right now." Jaryn answered, clicking an email._

_"Anything to worry about?"_

_"No, nothing dangerous." Jaryn shrugged. "Just emails from her friends Carly and Freddie." Malcolm tensed and walked to the computer, reading Freddie's email._

_"Is this the Freddie from iCarly…?" he questioned._

_"Yes, I believe so, why?"_

_Malcolm rubbed his chin for a moment. "From all the webcasts we watched before contacting Samantha, it really seemed like they had, well, feelings for each other…"_

_"Huh, maybe." Jaryn didn't seem fazed by this. Malcolm, on the other hand, went into deep panic mode when he saw that Freddie had said that he missed "their" Sam and wanted her to visit._

_"Block his emails." He stated after a moment, which confused Jaryn._

_"But why?"_

_"Well, dear brother." Malcolm began to explain. "We've got to keep Miss Puckett here. We can't have this Freddie kid giving her any ideas about leaving. We need her. Now do as I say!"_

_Jaryn nodded solemnly._

_And that was that._

* * *

I follow my mother down the stairs and watch her leave to go get groceries for some kind of dinner she's planning for tonight.

Spencer is at the kitchen table, in his reading glasses, surrounded by a huge pile of paper and files. I smirk and tiptoe over to him.

"Boo!" I scream, and he lets out a yelp. Papers fly everywhere, and I start laughing hysterically.

"That was –" Spencer begin to chuckle, but tries to hide it. "That wasn't humorous in any way!"

"Then why are you laughing?" I ask, still in a fit of laughter.

Immediately he clears his throat and sits up straight, smoothing his tie. "I'm not."

"Is that the contract?" I flinch as I recognize it. I stare down at the pages that are open in front of Spencer, and I see places where I had signed and my mom had signed. I never knew just how much I would regret moving that pen in that cursive motion. I ended up signing my way into fame prison.

"Yes." He responds, and sighs. "I've been looking through it for about two hours now, and I've got nothing. No spelling errors that could work in my favor, no double-meaning sentences…nothing. They even revised it once they added all those changes. It's perfectly straight-forward about everything Samantha Puckétte must do."

"Just keep looking." I tell him, and I didn't mean for it to, but it comes out very desperate. But can you blame me? Spencer P. Shay is my last hope.

"They're tricky." He adds, shaking his head. "They really are, those bumbling idiots."

"You've just got to be really open-minded, like the last time you helped us." I offer. "You know…" I smile. "Think outside the socks."

He looks up, confused. "What?"

"You said that to Carly once." I remind him. "You know, when the Plain White T's came to perform on iCarly. You asked her which pair of your crazy socks to wear, she said one of each, and that's what you said to her."

"Oh." He looks reflective for a moment, as if absorbing what I'd said. "Right. Yes…outside the socks." He smiles a little, but it's subtle.

"Yep." I smile at him. "Thanks for helping, Spencer."

"I'm happy to." And with that, he turns back to the contract.

I hear a flush, and Carly emerges from the bathroom. I smirk.

"Nice entrance." She ignores my comment.

"Guess what?!" she says happily.

"Malcolm Frund just died of a painful disease?!" I ask with enthusiasm, and then my smile quickly flattens.

"Oh come on, let's be serious." She says. "Tonight, we're having one of our famous sleepovers, just like we used to."

"Alright," I say with a shrug. "Whatever floats your boat."

She smiles. "I bought ham." She says this in a hush.

"No way!" My mouth waters. I haven't had ham yet, after all the time I've been here. Spencer thinks it's unhealthy. He's right, of course, but since when has that stopped me? I whisper, "You snuck it in?!"

"Duh!" I cringe. Even though she's my friend again, she can't seem to get over her popular girl ness. But oh well. It doesn't really matter anyway. Come tomorrow, I'm gone again.

And it's weird; the idea sort of makes me feel numb. I find myself blocking out all the pain of what's to come the next day. Like I put myself on auto-pilot. There's a certain freedom that comes over you when you give up.

This state continues all the way through the dinner that Mrs. Benson and my mom cook for me and everyone. In fact, the state is so intact that I barely notice that Freddie isn't there.

Really. It hardly fazes me at all.

After the dinner, which, as mean as it is, I barely remember, Carly and I head upstairs to the studio for the sleepover. We do the typical stuff; we do our nails, flip through magazines, eat ham, all that good stuff. And I can't seem to stop myself from watching time zoom by, not taking in every moment and keeping it forever. It seems stupid, because I'm leaving tomorrow, so I should be savoring every moment before it's gone.

It's probably easier to just let it all pass me by. It'll hurt less.

But Carly's not stupid. "Sam, don't do this." We're both lying on our stomachs against pillows. Carly's laptop is in front of us.

I look up at her, shocked. "Do what?"

"Rush through the night." She answers, and suddenly I remember just how hard it is to hide _anything_ from Carly Shay. "I know you're upset about leaving, believe me, I am too, but you've got to make the best of it."

"There's so much left to do." I tell her, frustrated. "I'm not finished here yet. But the Frunds are cutting me off. I can't _stand_ them." I slam a fist into the pillow under me.

"Are you talking about Freddie?" she asks.

"No." I lie through my teeth and roll my eyes. "He's hopeless, that kid."

"You know why he's like that, right?"

"Yeah." Mrs. Benson had told me, but right now, it seems sort of ridiculous and unreal to me. This all does. "'Cause he tried to 'forget about me.'" I say 'forget about me' in a sarcastic way.

"No." she corrects, shaking her head. "Because he _couldn't_."

I stay quiet, letting her statement sink in. It could be true. I've heard it from Mrs. Benson, and read it in Freddie's notebook, and now from Carly. But honestly, the only way it'll really be real is if I hear it straight from Freddie, right to me. I need him to _say_ it, out loud and plain as day. Otherwise, I just can't accept it as true.

When Carly figures out that I don't plan on responding, she sighs and turns back to the laptop in front of us. "Hey, let's go to the iCarly site."

I stare. "Why?"

"I don't know, for the memories?"

"Sure," I say, with a shrug. She types in the address and the page loads slowly.

"Wait." She says quickly, when the home page loads. I look at the top of the page, where Carly, Sam, Spencer and I, our mouths gaping open, telling the world to give us feedback. I give a small smile, silently asking the goofy-looking Sam on the screen how she could be so stupid, but my thoughts are interrupted when Carly blurts out. "What is this?!"

She points to the screen; a new video had been posted last week. _Funny…that looks just like…_

"Th-that's our video." I say to her, wide-eyed and shocked. "The _fake_ one."

"Well, it's not so fake anymore." Carly adds, shaking her head. "How do you think it got on here?"

I think for a moment, but suddenly, it all fits together. "Freddie left his equipment in here the last iCarly, right? So he must've never disconnected the camera from the site. The idiot." I shake my head, over and over, hating what I'm about to say. "Carls, I think this is how they found me. Or part of how, at least." _Stupid Freddie. Why did he have to storm out? Why couldn't he have stayed? Why didn't he ask me to stay? Why in the world does it bother me so much?_

"This is so weird," Carly states, shaking her head along with me. I know she's partly thinking about me and how I got found, but also about whether or not her 'friends' will see it, and if her rep is at stake, yada yada. She's Carly, but also, it must be hard to let go of something that's been the center of your life for three years.

"Uh huh."

"Look," she says quietly. "Down there. People have been commenting…"

"Really?" my stomach flutters, thinking back to years ago when our iCarly inbox flooded with emails and comments and videos. Honestly, I think iCarly brought out the best in the three of us. It kept us together through everything.

**GirlyGirl789 said:**

**Oh my gosh! iCarly is back?! Seriously! Oh my gosh! I can't believe it! I'm so happy! But where's Freddie?**

**WakeyWakey890 said:**

**No way! YOU GUYS ARE BACK! I'm jumping for joy right now. Sam(antha Puckétte?), I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but you were more awesome in the one video than you were in Musicals Don't Sing For You 1, 2, OR 3! I missed you!**

**Jason76574 said:**

**Carly went blonde? That's kind of odd. Aside from that, welcome back! You guys rock! Where's Freddie though?**

**PastaWithCaramel71 said:**

**Thank goodness. I thought iCarly was over for good.**

I stare, slightly happy, but mostly confused. "Carly, they think we started iCarly again…" Carly simply stares, deep in thought. "Carly…?"

"I think that we should try to start it again." She says, quietly and carefully. "If you stay." The word '_if_' makes my heart hurt, but I ignore it. I tend to do that.

"Why now?" I wonder, more to myself than Carly, but she answers anyway.

"Remember how I said my rep kept me sane?"

"Yeah," I nod slowly. "I do."

"iCarly used to do that." She continues. "And maybe it still can."

"Yeah," I agree, thoughtfully. "Maybe it can." I yawn and check the laptop's clock. "It's two AM. Maybe we should sleep. Spencer said he was waking us up at 6:30."

"Are you packed?" she questions, in a tone that sounds very much like she wishes I had nothing to pack for.

I laugh, despite the situation. "I didn't bring anything. Nothing except my Samantha Puckétte clothes, and I don't really want them. Sell 'em on EBay or something." Carly laughs as she shuts down her computer, but with only half a heart. We get into our sleeping bags and stare up at the cold, dark ceiling. The window to the iCarly studio is dark. There's no light coming through it tonight. And if it comes tomorrow, it could very well be too late.

"Night, Sam." I hear Carly say into the darkness.

"Night, Carly." I say back, and the room falls silent again, and suddenly, my eyes feel heavy. It's been a tough day. It really has.

I drift off to sleep, thinking of the conversation Carly and I just had.

_"iCarly used to do that, and maybe it still can."_

* * *

_"You're sure you're okay to stay here while I head to the airport?" Marie Benson asked her son._

_"I'm fine, mom." Freddie answered, staring hard, perhaps too hard, at the television._

_Marie hesitated for a moment, and then spoke. "And you're sure you're not well enough to go?" She sighed. "I know Sam would be very disappointed."_

_"She'll be fine." He said back, a little too quickly. "She's gonna be famous. She doesn't need some dork anymore."_

_"Oh Freddie." She said softly. "You know she cares about you. She wants you there. You can't possibly think otherwise."_

_Freddie wanted to get up, to join his mom. He wanted to run to the airport as fast as he could. Because maybe he could still stop her. Maybe he had a chance he didn't even know about._

_But Freddie's desires stayed only within his mind as he watched his mother depart. The door closed, leaving Freddie Benson to bask in the regret he wanted too much to deny._

_Freddie said nothing, and would later realize just how close to everything he was giving up when he did._

* * *

"Carly…Sam…" My eyes open. The room is still dark, as the sun has not yet risen.

I don't want to get up. I don't want to get dressed, eat breakfast, and wait for Malcolm Frund to destroy my life all over again. I hate it that I might have to, though.

_Maybe Spencer found a loophole._

"Spencer, did you find any loopholes?" Carly asks tiredly, reading my mind. My eyes adjust to the light, and I notice that Spencer is wearing suit pants and a white button-down shirt, except…he has dark circles under his eyes, his shirt is partly un-tucked, and his hair is all over the place. "Anything at all?"

I'm now fully awake, waiting for his answer, my last hope. But my heart drops through the floor when he shakes his head.

"I tried everything." He says sadly. "And I mean _everything_."

I sigh, sitting up. "Thanks anyway." Carly sits up as well, looking like she's going to cry.

I get up, grab a set of Carly's clothes, which Spencer was nice enough to lay out for me, and I go to the bathroom and get dressed. My mind is set on auto-pilot again, knowing now that all hope is lost. Samantha Puckétte will return, and iCarly won't. It's just the way it has to be.

Eventually, I get downstairs. I check the clock. It's 6:50.

Carly and Spencer are having breakfast. Moments after I arrive, Mrs. Benson and my mom emerge through the Shay's door, chatting quietly. They'd become good friends yesterday, surprisingly. It's just that they're so different. I guess they just even each other out. My mother turns and smiles at me, to comfort me. I know she's new at this, the comforting department, but she's trying, and that's all that matters. I smile back. Freddie follows after them, looking tired and completely out-of-it. My smile fades.

On a normal day here, I would've just avoided him because that's the smart thing to do. But right now, I'm tired, sad, confused, defeated, and annoyed, and just…

I've absolutely _had_ it.

Before I can think things through, I walk right towards him, and he looks slightly shocked in me doing so, but I don't care. I cross my arms.

"Hi." He says lamely.

"Where were you?" I ask him quickly, angrily.

"When?" he mutters. I can tell I'm destroying his stupid façade, and again, I don't give a ham.

"When?!" I snap at him, eyes narrowed. "Yesterday. And the day before, and all those times when you should've been there! _Where were you?!_" I can feel my insides start to bubble, a feeling I always get when I decide to convert my fear and sadness to anger.

"I was…" he stutters, shocked by how direct my question is. "I-I was…"

"With Valerie?" I ask, annoyed. "With Duke? Behind a dumpster? In a deserted alley? Robbing a bank? Destroying a car? TP-ing a house?! Humor me, Freddie, why is it that you take every moment possible to avoid _anything_ that would have to do with caring about someone?!"

"Well, I-I…" he's stumbling over his words, and I can visibly see how nervous he is. Well, good. He deserves it, after all.

"Oh, and another question." I stare straight at him. "Are you planning on coming today?! Huh? Are you?!"

I stand there, waiting, watching as he tries not to lose his cool, but as I'd said so long ago, _you can't lose what you never had_.

He looks away from me. "I've, um, I've got a lot of homework…and…"

"Oh, so you're not!" I say loudly, as if I thought he _was_ going. _Please_. "Well then, if there's anything you want to say to me, you'd better do it now."

I don't remember just how long we stand there, but eventually, he turns away.

"Forget it, just forget it." I hiss. "You're a coward, Freddie Benson." Suddenly everything is quiet. Carly comes over. She probably heard the whole thing.

"Maybe you're being too harsh." She whispers to me. I notice everyone in the room is staring, looking concerned, minus the moron with his back turned, of course.

"Really? Well, I don't think so." The whole scene is interrupted by the door barging open. Everyone turns at the exact same time to the door.

"Time to leave." Malcolm states heartlessly, his men and Jaryn nodding behind him.

I guess I have no choice. Not anymore.

Carly, Spencer, Mrs. Benson, and my mother all walk towards the door, shooting angry glares at the Frunds. But Freddie stays put, his back turned, pretending he doesn't care, and I secretly hope I'm right about the pretending part.

"Valerie," Malcolm says, and Valerie emerges from the group of men. "I'm putting you in charge of guarding this area, to make sure Sam can't return to here." He glances at Freddie. "And make sure no one changes their mind about leaving here, catch my drift?"

"Oh, I catch it." Valerie smirks, and I kind of feel like strangling her.

Deciding that this could very well be the last time I ever see Freddie's face, I sigh, put a hand on his shoulder and close my eyes. "Bye, Freddie."

And then I turn around, following everyone else out the door.

"_Good riddance_," his voice echoes in my mind, from our conversation in the halls so long ago. "_Good riddance_."

* * *

**A/N: I decided to split this chapter into two chapters because it would've been way too long. Anyway, wow, can you believe what's happening here?**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts on this!**

**Excuse any errors. It's late, and I wanted to get this up for you guys. Byee!**

**-Colors**


	19. Chapter 18

Summary: So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving

**Summary: **So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving.

**Disclaimer: **iDon't Own iCarly or any of it's characters. Only the ones I make up:)

**A/N:**Okay guys. In case this chapter's format is confusing, all the big flashbacks are happening at the same time as what was just going on with Sam, except for, well, you'll see. Enjoy the second to last chapter of iRemember!

**iRemember**

**Chapter Eighteen**

All of a sudden, everything is in fast motion. Looks like the Frunds want me out of here _fast_. Of _course_ they do. They don't want any chance of me finding a way to stay. Now I really wish I had listened to Carly and absorbed everything I had left of that night.

Memories are something I've always held onto. You'll never know just how important they are until you're far away from where you want to be most; when they're all you've got.

I think we're walking to the airport, but I can't tell because I'm surrounded by security. Seriously, _surrounded_. The only view in front of, behind, and to either side of me, is of suits and heads. It's raining, so one of the guards has a big, black umbrella over my head. This is how it always is, when you're 'famous' like I am…you're deprived of the world around you, confined to a little square of space with everyone encircling you like you're a painting in a museum.

Let me tell you, I've never felt more helpless in my entire life. There's this raw pain in me I've never felt before. Or maybe I have, but it's never been this strong. It's the kind where all you want to do is stand still and cry. I just want to slow down. But the security team keeps pushing me along, further and further away from where I want to be.

I hate this. I hate this. I _hate_ this.

I can hear my family and friends' footsteps behind me, yet I've never felt more alone among all these people. They don't know. They might think they know, but they really don't.

Because after I leave, they'll go back to their homes, to their families, to their lives when I wasn't there. Carly will continue to dye her hair blonde, Spencer will continue to fight for other people, as opposed to himself, Mrs. Benson will watch Freddie fall further and further and…

_Freddie._

It's not fair, okay?! It's just really not. I already had to say goodbye once, I can't do it again. It hurts.

I slow my pace, and one of the security guys yells, "Move along, Miss Puckétte.", forcing me to quicken my pace again.

My heart begs my feet to turn and run away, but my mind knows that I'm done running. I have to face what I caused. It was cowardly of me to run in the first place, and I was stupid to think that running meant escaping forever.

Because it never does.

Deep down, we're all cowards about something. A pang of guilt fills me when I remember calling Freddie a coward. I had no right to say that, when I was just as scared. No right whatsoever.

Call me stupid, but now I'm straining to hear an addition to the footsteps behind me, an extra pair of feet that wants me to stay. But I'm only kidding myself. He's made it clear, time and time again, that it's best I just leave. For good this time.

Maybe it's also for the best if I forget about him. I mean, he forgot himself after all, so why should I remember him when he doesn't?

Oh, who am I kidding? We all know I'll never be able to forget him.

There's a clap of thunder overhead, mocking me. I'm really going. I'm really never coming back.

Something tells me it'll be harder than it sounds. And it already sounds hard enough.

Finally, we reach somewhere indoors. It's definitely the airport because I remember just how slowly I stepped out of it, scared of what was going to happen once I did.

Life is weird like that. Something you're afraid of sometimes ends up being the best thing that ever happened to you. Something you can't live without.

"The plane is set to leave in eight minutes." I hear Malcolm's voice, beyond the sea of official darkness in front of me. And all at once (I guess they've been practicing?), the security team shuffles away, revealing Malcolm's heartless face. I glare. Hard. "Oh, cheer up. This is _show business_, after all."

"Oh, I've got some business to show!" Carly cries out, looking like she's going to punch him, but Spencer pulls her back abruptly.

"Carly, it's okay." I say softly, even though it's not. Maybe it will be if I say it enough. I continue staring at Malcolm. "Can I say goodbye to them…one more time?"

I really think he's going to say no, but surprisingly he narrows his eyes and says, "You have five minutes."

"Five minutes." I repeat sadly. "Right." I turn away from the security guards and towards a group of people I would do anything for. This is going to be hard, but it has to happen.

Mrs. Benson approaches me first, a sad smile planted on her face.

"Stay true to yourself, Samantha." She tells me, and I nod, even though I know it'll all change from here. "Oh, here." She opens a bag that she's carrying and hands me a tray with plastic wrapping over it. "For the road." I take the tray from her and I can't help but smile, just a little. _Cucumber cups_.

"Thank you." I say to her, and I mean it. And not even just for the cucumber; for her wise words and advice, for staying up an entire night searching for me, for being a mom when mine wasn't there, for never giving up, unlike me. "For everything." Mrs. Benson bursts into tears, surprising me, and pulls me into a spine-crushing hug. I gently pat her back, wondering if maybe I'm like a daughter to her. I guess I'll never really know.

Soon, she pulls away and steps back. It's Spencer's turn.

_"Hey Carly's friend, who never seems to hang out at her own home." _Spencer's voice echoes in my head, from that day three years ago. What he didn't understand was that, in an emotional way, Carly's apartment was…_is_…my home.

Spencer is carrying something odd-shaped, wrapped in brown paper. He awkwardly places the strange package in my hand, and I stare down at it.

"It's a present," he explains, as if I think it's just paper. "I recommend opening it. When you can." I give him a small smile, and slowly unwrap to brown package.

And then I just gaze at the object in my hand, dumbfounded.

It's a silver mini tree with blue polka dots, and on its branches is picture after picture, memory after memory. From the tuna picture (the one of Carly and I that I have in my album…), to all the beach pictures of all four of us, to the iCarly pictures, all that complete randomness that made up who we were, up until a picture Carly and I had taken a few days ago with her old Polaroid. Who we are.

"Wh…what is it?" I manage to get out. I look at picture after picture, almost like it's not even real and I want to memorize it before it disappears.

"Yesterday when I was trying to find a loophole," he explains sheepishly. "You reminded me that I used to always have my best ideas while I did art. Or when I was wet. But mostly the art. So while Carly and you were upstairs, I made this. I still didn't find anything, but it did make me feel a lot better. Do you like it?"

_Do I like it?! Do I __**like**__ it?!_

Ladies and gentleman, Spencer has arrived.

I shake my head, holding back the tears that I know are inevitable. "It's unbelievable…" From the corner of my eye, I can see that Carly is crying.

"It also lights up," he tells me, smiling. "You just have to push that button." He points to a blue button under one of the branches.

I smile shakily. "It won't burst into flames?" I think we've _all_ seen how Spencer deals with electric wiring: not well.

"Oh, pish posh." He says. "I got help from Socko, with the light-up technicalities."

My smile widens. "You talked to Socko?"

"Yes…" he stares, confused at my excitement. _Maybe, just maybe, Socko will have his customer back. Maybe more than one._

I jump onto Spencer, hugging him, feeling like Mrs. Benson, who pounces on people, but I don't care. Carly's sobs fill my ears as I hug Spencer, the man who has been like a dad to me the whole time I've been here, and the whole time I've known him.

"Thank you." I say to him as we pull away.

And then, it's Carly's turn, and I get this large déjà vu feeling, standing in this exact airport a few years ago, saying goodbye to the exact same people.

Somehow, that doesn't change how much it hurts.

Carly's face is tear-streaked and sad, and I try to remember if it was like this when I left the first time. I can't recall exactly. But it doesn't really matter all that much right now.

I search my mind for words, for the perfect way to tell Carly just how much I'd miss her, how important she was to me, to thank her for being by my side even when things were insanely messy.

But there aren't any. Not for Carly and me.

I look at Carly, and she looks at me, and we both shoot each other a small smile in unison. And then, on cue, we ankle-swear.

Our promise is renewed. To be best friends no matter what. And right now, all we can do is trust that.

"_I swear_." We both whisper at the end, and then she pulls me into a hug.

"I'm gonna miss you, kid." I say to her hair. We pull apart. "Do me a favor?"

"What?" she asks.

"Stop dying your hair."

"Only if you thank me in your next acceptance speech."

"Deal." I smile sadly, suddenly just feeling purely sad. No longer angry or scared. Those could come later, if needed. Right now, I'm leaving my best friend, possibly forever, and I'm sad. The kind of sadness you simply can't control, because one of its cause is staring at you right in the face…or even worse, like before, has turned away from you. I think you know who I mean.

"Well?! What in money's name are we waiting for?!" Malcolm cuts in, Jaryn and the stupid security nubs still standing there. _Shut __**up**_. "That's everyone, isn't it?" He waits for me to answer. "_Isn't it_?"

I look behind me, at the entrance to the airport, and sigh. "Just wait."

"Samantha, we've got two minutes until boarding time."

"We're _waiting_." I shoot back, and he looks shocked, but then recomposes himself.

"Fine then." He brushes non-existent dust off his suit. He lifts up his arm to read his watch. "A minute fifty five, a minute fifty four, a minute fifty three…"

And even as Malcolm counts down the scarce time I have left, no matter how stupid it is, I won't give up all my hope until the very end.

"A minute fifty, a minute forty nine, a minute forty eight…"

Maybe Samantha Puckétte would. But not me.

* * *

_Freddie was still in Carly's apartment. He was still standing here, trying to push everything away. But he'd been noticing lately that it only got harder and harder._

_"I still don't get why you're so upset." Valerie's voice filled the empty apartment. He whirled around. He had forgotten she was in there. Not that he really wanted to remember, or for her to be there at all._

_"I'm not upset." He argued. "I'm just –"_

_"You're upset, and you have no reason to be. You have me!"_

_Freddie gave her his famous 'what the heck are you talking about?' look. "Did you really think that turning Sam in would make me like you again? You're crazy!"_

_"Oh, I'm crazy?" she shot back. "At least I'm not in love with someone who insulted me for six years, then disappeared!"_

_In love? That was crazy talk. It had to be. He couldn't be in love with Sam._

_Was he?_

_He ran a hand through his hair. "Why do you think I'm in love with __**Sam**__?"_

_"It's obvious!" she cried out. "It's obvious to everyone! That's why you pushed everything and everyone away when she left, because no one else would do!" Freddie ignored her harsh, but truthful words. At least it looked like he did, until he said –_

_"Drop it," he walked towards her, pointing his finger at her. "Just forget about it, okay?" And he turned away, walking towards the couch._

_"No! Not okay!" she screamed back. "You're so pathetic, you know that?! Out of all the people that have left you in your life, what makes Sum Puckett so special?!"_

_And then he stopped, turning around quickly. "The difference is, __**she came back**__!" And then his anger-filled face slowly faded into realization, and he sank down onto the couch. "She came back…" He was shocked because the idea as a whole was new to him, even as he'd said it to Valerie._

_Valerie stared at him, letting his statement sink in. She was still hurt, but suddenly she realized that she didn't really love Freddie. She liked but, but she would get over it._

_She knew what it was like to care about someone and watch them leave. An image flashed in her mind of Freddie walking away, after he had broken up with her._

_She felt helpless, in an instant, now realizing that her 'genius plan' to break Sam and Freddie's hearts would not mend her own._

_"Then go." She said quietly, surprising Freddie largely. "No one's stopping you anymore." She opened the door to the apartment._

_"It's too late." He answered. "Her plan probably left already." He pictured himself running up to Carly, asking her where Sam was. He remembered her shaking her head, telling him that Sam was gone. Gone._

_He put his face in his hands in frustration. __**What was happening? **__How__** could this be happening? How could she just walk in and –**_

_Through his fingers, he could see a slither of green sitting on the table in front of him. He removed his hands from his vision. Sam had accidentally left her photo album behind._

_He picked it up, fingering the green leather of the cover. And then he opened it._

_He had opened it upside down by mistake, to the last picture he had looked at with Sam; a picture of himself, Sam, Carly and Spencer at Groovy Smoothies. He turned the album the right way so that the picture was no longer upside. He smiled to himself, thinking about that day. He had fun that day, even though Sam __**had**__ poured a smoothie down his pants._

_Wasn't that the whole base of their friendship? The fact that, despite Sam's cruelty and his dorkiness, they remained friends. They looked passed – no, learned to like their flaws. Maybe even love their flaws._

_Love wasn't perfect. Love could hurt and heal, strengthen and weaken, grow and shrink, live and die. That was the truth, right there. Love was all about opposites, and finding someone to balance you out. Loving someone for who they were, and who they weren't. Who they are, and who they'll never be._

_Then, Freddie noticed something._

_There were two pages stuck together. There was a page he hadn't seen._

_He quickly he pulled the two pages apart to reveal himself and Sam, fighting over a muffin._

_It was the last one, apparently._

_And then he remembered something he was supposed to remember all along._

_He stared down at the page, and then looked up at the door, where Valerie was standing. It was wide open, waiting for him._

_Freddie Benson had a choice to make. And it had to be made at that moment, before the choice was no longer his own._

* * *

"Five…four…three…two…and off we go!" One of Malcolm's security guards grabs me, and another grabs my mother, pulling the two of us back into the sea of black suits that I'd grown to hate. And it happens before I could look at Carly, Spencer, or Mrs. Benson, one last time.

I had waited, and I had hoped. But I guess that wasn't enough. History is repeating itself, and there is nothing left to be said.

The airport officially opens.

And then there are photographers, all of a sudden. And fans. And random bystanders, staring. Just like I'm a painting to be stared at.

The security team opens up, so photographers could see me. Suddenly, there are lights flashing everywhere, and a buzzing noise of talking and shouting and hands grabbing at me. I can't see a thing. I'm drowning. I just want to get out of here. I can't return to this. I just can't.

"Samantha! Samantha! Over here! Over here!"

"Smile big, sweetheart! You're going to be on the cover of –"

"Samantha! I'm your very biggest fan, I –"

"Sign my forehead!"

"Samantha, Seattle News, Adam McGerth. Why did you run away from –?"

"Wh –? I-I…" I turn away from everyone, still walking only to see more people behind me. The guards are now at my side, revealing me completely to the public. A random guy flashes a camera right in my face, leaving those little colored spots in my eyes.

People are sticking note pad after note pad, pencil after pencil in my face, screaming for autographs. I push them all away. The world is spinning around me, all a blur, a mess.

This isn't me. This never _was _me. And it never will be.

I'm about to protest when a security officer shoves me along, towards the stairs, leading to the place where the airplane is. All the reporters, photographers and fans are now behind me, screaming my name. Why do they care about me, anyways? I don't even know any of them, and they don't know me. Why won't just they _leave me alone_?!

"Samantha, Samantha! Samantha Puckétte!" they're all screaming. Not in unison, obviously, but all at different times, all blending together, trying to get Samantha Puckétte's attention. But they won't. Because Samantha Puckétte isn't here. I left her behind the moment I stepped out of La Beau, and, unlike Carly, and Spencer, and Mrs. Benson, and Socko…and _Freddie_…I don't want her back.

We're almost to the stairs. I can see them between the bodies of Fernando/Greg, and Greg/Fernando. And the screaming continues, if not increases. The flashes of light behind me grow. Someone throws a flower and it falls directly next to me as I continue walking. Then a security guard steps on it.

And then suddenly, among all the crazed people, screaming for Samantha Puckétte, I hear another name, a different name, a _better_ name, being called, loud and clear.

"Sam!!" a familiar voice shouts out, among the sea of screeching fans. My eyes widen, and I try harder to hear the voice over the rest. "Sam!! Wait!!"

"Samantha! Samantha Puckétte, over here!" a different voice shouts.

I stop at the foot of the stairs, and Malcolm is shouting something incoherent about no more stalling, and the guards behind me are trying to act as if they're not trying to hurry me along, but I don't care.

"Sam!!" the voice shouts again, over all the others. "Sam!!" I whip my head around in all directions, trying to find a way out. "Sam Puckett!!"

_Could it be?_

"The plane is _leaving_!" Malcolm yelps at me, making me jump. "Go!"

I breathe in and out quickly, looking around. I need an escape. Suddenly, a genius idea only I'm capable of thinking of in two seconds falls into my brain.

I turn to Malcolm, smirking. "If you insist!" And then I jump to the ground, and I crawl right between two random security people, fast. I slap the hood of the jacket I'm wearing over my head and run. He's still calling my name. _My_ name, the one I was given at birth.

My heart is pounding faster and faster, the screaming gets louder and louder, but there's no time to think or stop or look where I'm going. I just run. Looking for him, because he's there, I heard him.

The commotion in the crowd is getting louder, and it's because everyone has noticed my 'absence' from my 'rightful place': behind security. In fame prison.

But I push further, flashing by people and searching, searching…

And then I see him, and despite all the noise and insanity around me, everyone seems to be going slower.

I approach him slowly, my hood still over my head, feeling like I just might puke. But I put on my Sam face. I would need it.

I breathe in when he spots me. He looks scared, I'll tell you that. And wet. And tired. He's panting as if he'd just run a marathon, and his T-shirt and jeans are socked all the way through.

I cross my arms and stare straight into his eyes, "You rang?"

I watch him as he takes a deep breath, and says, loud and clear, "Don't go." And he says it so sincerely that I feel a little pang in my heart. He means it.

My eyes widen. "Did…you just say - ?"

"There she is!" a random old lady shouts, and I wince. Everyone starts talking at once, and security rushes towards me at crazy speed. _No. No. NO. They're not taking me now. _I close my eyes, expecting to be tackled. And then I wait.

And wait.

_Okay, what the heck is going on?_

I open my eyes, and they're there. All of them. Freddie, Carly, my mom, Spencer, and Mrs. Benson. They're surrounding me. Protecting me.

"Out of the way, lady!" Malcolm shouts at Mrs. Benson.

"Are you aware that I'm a professional fencer?!" she shouts back. "Are you, Punk?!"

"We won't let you take Sam!" Carly yells.

"Yeah!" Freddie chimes in, and I'm in complete shock. I'm speechless here, people. What's gotten into him? "I'd like to have a negotiation, actually."

"Oh yeah?" Malcolm says obnoxiously. "Well –"

"Let him do it." Jaryn cuts in, and we all stare at him. He's not one to give orders.

"Jaryn, no." he barks. "We're taking her back. She belongs to _us_."

"You can't own a human being, Malcolm!" Jaryn shoots back. "I say we let the kid talk."

Malcolm rolls his eyes. "Very well…hand me the megaphone!" Jaryn does as he is told, and Malcolm shouts into it. "I need everybody _out_! _Everybody out_!"

I just stand there, as everyone around me moves out and away until they're gone.

He came. Freddie Benson actually came after me. And he's here, and I'm here. And we're not killing each other. He wants me to stay.

Now I have a headache. But a good kind of headache. Can there be a good kind of headache? Apparently.

The whole first floor to the airport clears out, and Freddie whispers something to Spencer that I can't hear. Spencer's grins.

"I missed your genius brain!" he says happily, losing his cool for a second, but then he clears his throat and approaches Malcolm and Jaryn. Malcolm has his arms crossed and is glaring at Jaryn. "Spencer Shay. Lawyer of Hannington Inc, specialized in business and corporation." He puts out his hand.

"Just get on with it!" he grumbles, looking at his watch.

"Gentleman, I understand you made young Sam Puckett aware of the fact that you changed her last name, to Puckétte."

"Yes." Malcolm says.

"And, after doing that, you revised the contract, replacing Samantha's last name with the name you desired for her to have."

"Yes, yes, what's your point?" he looks impatient, and I look over at Freddie, who's looking right back at me. He smiles, and I smirk.

"I bet," Spencer says happily. "That you were so caught up in money that you didn't legally change her last name to Puckétte."

Oh, take _that_, Frund! He looks so shocked now, that it's almost funny. Okay, _is_ funny.

I feel so strong when I'm around all these people. Like nothing can ever hurt me.

"I, well…" he pulls at his collar, and suddenly, I know we've won. I look over at Carly, and we exchange a secret agent nod. "Of course I changed her name legally."

"Did you?" Freddie steps forward. "Because I just so happen to do a really quick research before I got over here, and I have proof that the change in name was never legalized."

_Oh gosh, what a dork. _But suddenly, I'm smiling, and I just can't stop smiling.

"Was your money too blinding, buddy?" Spencer says mockingly. "So here's the new deal. You release Sam of her contract, now, or we take this to court, where, trust me, you'll owe Sam much more money than we'll owe you."

"But wait," Malcolm says desperately. "The contract states, and I quote, _'Client must do whatever either manager says.' _That statement refers to the client, whoever the client may be."

"Oh, we've got you now." Jaryn says, confident all of a sudden. He looks around at all of us. "Malcolm, hand me the contract…"

"You carry contracts with you?" Carly laughs.

"It's precautionary, you little brat." Malcolm snaps, and then he hands the contract over to his brother. "Here you go. Do your worst."

"Samantha, as your manager…" Jaryn begins. Malcolm looks smug. "I order you to," he hands her the contract. "Rip this in half."

My mouth falls open from shock, but then I realize that I have to act fast.

"_Nooooo!_" Malcolm shouts, shocked.

"If you insist!" I say to Jaryn, and then, I hear the most calming sound in the world.

_Rrrrrriiiipppp._

The now split in half contract falls peacefully to the ground, and I take the liberty to stomp on it.

"Jaryn! How could you do this?!" Malcolm yells, his face getting red. If he was a cartoon, steam would be spilling out of his ears. This is great. All this time I've been so scared of him. I never had to be.

"I'm tired of you trying to control me, to be the boss." Jaryn shoots back. "I think we all are." Malcolm lets out a cry of frustration. Jaryn turns to me. "Samantha, you can go."

And I could. But there's one more thing I need to do before I leave.

"Thank you, Jaryn. Really." He nods. I approach Malcolm, my arms crossed. "I just wanted to say something to you, _Malcolm_." He rolls his eyes, and I continue. "Maybe you thought you had changed me, that you'd locked away Sam Puckett forever, but guess what you forgot to take into account?" He waits. "Sam Puckett knows how to pick locks."

I turn away from him, feeling the biggest weight off my shoulder, and smile.

And then I walk out of the airport, away from goodbyes, towards home;

I'm free.

* * *

"To Spencer!" Carly shouts, holding up her Mango Smoothie. Carly, Spencer, Freddie, mom, Mrs. Benson and I are all at Groovy Smoothies in celebration of our victory. It's probably about 1 AM because that's when no one goes there (it'd suck to be mauled by fans). But right now, I could care less what time it is. "For making it so that Sam could stay, and making Malcolm Frund shake in fear!" I cheer along with everybody else, but my eyes are on Freddie, who looks lost and deep in thought. I wonder what he's thinking about.

"To Sam!" Spencer adds. "For being Sam!" Everyone cheers, and even Freddie claps.

I smile. It's nice to be cheered for as yourself, and not someone else.

The group sits back, enjoying their smoothies. My mom is chatting with Mrs. Benson about fencing, Carly and Spencer are talking about how funny Malcolm's face looked (It _was_ pretty funny, actually), which leaves Freddie and I. Freddie still looks distracted.

_"You know why he's like that, right?"_

_"Yeah, 'cause he tried to 'forget about me.'"_

_"No…because he __**couldn't**__."_

My stomach is suddenly in knots.

"I'm just going to get some air." I say nervously, quickly getting up. "You know…oxygen…"

"Are you alright, honey?" my mom asks, looking concerned.

"Y-yeah." I lie. "It's probably just the smoothie fumes." I turn around and head towards the door.

"You know, I heard that too much smoothie fumes causes brain damage." I hear Carly say.

"That's highly unethical." I hear Spencer say. "Smoothies don't even have fumes," I roll my eyes, smiling, and step outside.

Cool air fills my lungs, reminding me just how free I am. It blows my curly hair back, and I hear that _whoosh_ sound in my ears. Everything is going to change after tonight. I can feel it.

I make my way over to a bench, the one outside the Convenient Store. You know, the one owned by that pirate guy who can't act to save his butt?

I just sit there, trying to reflect on everything that had happened today, from yelling at Freddie, to Spencer's art, to Freddie pretty much saving me.

It's so surreal, thinking it over. Almost like the whole thing was one big movie, and now it's over. But even though it's over, it's still with me, in a way. It's like the feeling you get when you walk out of a movie theater after a great film; you know it's over, yet you're still going over the details that matter most in your mind.

I hear a couple of crickets chirp-chirping away, singing to the night, free, and I smile gently.

"I did it, guys." I say softly. "I'm one of you now." The chirping continues for a few moments.

"Who are you talking to?" I hear someone say, and I jump about ten feet in the air. I squint in the darkness and…oh my gosh. This is so ridiculously movie-cliché. The guy sneaks up on the girl while she's reflecting. But I don't really care how cliché it is. "Sorry, I didn't mean to, uh, scare you." He looks really nervous, and, kill me for actually admitting this, adorable. I've missed this Freddie so much.

"You didn't _scare_ me," I retort, rubbing my arms from the cold. "You just surprised me."

"Can I sit?" he points to the empty space on the bench.

I shrug. "Sure, whatever." But, being honest, I'm kind of freaking out. I don't know what to do, or what to say.

So I stick with what I know best.

I take my hand and whap him on the shoulder with great force.

"Ow!" he yells, startled. "What was _that_ for?!"

"For freaking me out like that!" I answer loudly. "I really thought you weren't going to come, you know!"

"I think I at least deserve a '_thank you_.'" He replies, annoyed. "If it weren't for me, you'd be in California right now!"

"You're such a - !" I stop myself and sigh. "You're right."

He looks confused for a second. "I'm right?"

"Yeah." I say quietly. "I should thank you properly." He waits, his head tilted slightly to the side. "Thanks dork." I smirk.

I expect him to get angry, or at least shoot me a look, but instead, he just laughs lightly and looks out at the scene in front of us.

"Uh, Freddie?" I raise an eyebrow,

"Sorry," he says thoughtfully. "It's just…you haven't called me a dork in so long."

"Well, you haven't _been_ a dork in so long." I point out.

"True." He nods. We both just stare ahead, probably thinking similar thoughts.

Remembering similar things.

"Sam, about everything," he says, which, I've got to say, sounds completely dumb, so I stop him.

"Hey, dork." I smile gently. "It happened, but it's over, you know? For once, I kind of want to focus on _right now_."

"Okay," he nods. "Yeah, I do too."

"But I do have one question," I stare at him thoughtfully. "What insane, mysterious force prompted you to run in the rain, face a hundred crazy fans, and stand up to a psycho music manager, just for _me_?"

_"Samantha, he __**let**__ you leave."_

_**"Well then, if there's anything you want to say to me, you'd better do it now."**_

"Easy," he begins his answer. I hold my breath, wanting to hear it. _Needing_ to is more like it. "I remembered that I never wanted to let you go." He looks right at me, his chocolate brown eyes boring through to my soul. No more secrets. No more walls. They're crashing down, and I'm okay with it. Because that's why they were up in the first place. "I still don't."

"_No matter how fast I run or you run, you know we'll catch each other eventually, don't you?_"

_"People change. You would know."_

"_**I should be happy she's gone. All she ever did was harass me. She called me mean names, mocked me, and put me down whenever she wanted to. I was, and am, and will be nothing but the dork to her. So I shouldn't care that she's gone. But I do."**_

He takes my hand and squeezes it, and suddenly, it all comes back to me. The boy who showed up in my attic ten years ago, with the shiny brown eyes and the mom with the large first aid kit.

The one kid in the whole world who had tried to get through to me. He's now right here, holding my hand, helping me, just like he'd said.

_"You rescued it, didn't you?"_

_"It's the __**only**__ thing I rescued."_

_"__**I saw her again, and I swear, it all came back. In an instant. The memories of iCarly and watermelon with a spoon and Wake Up Spencer and messing with Lewbert and spray fan fights and food stealing and wedgies and our sabotage plans and goodbyes that never really happened but should've.**_

_**I don't know how to explain it. Except that I care about her way more than I'm willing to think about.**__"_

I don't remember exactly who leans in first, or who closes their eyes first.

I don't remember how long we sit there on the bench together.

And I don't remember exactly what I'm thinking, word for word.

All I remember is Freddie's soft lips pressed against mine, the fire within me, that rush of giddy pleasure knowing I'd just kissed Freddork Benson, and loved every second of it.

It's not always about how. What's more important is that, one way or another, everything _does_ work out sometimes.

And thank the ham there was a 'sometimes' left for me.

* * *

_**I have officially gone crazy. Nothing is going right for me. Sam is gone, and iCarly is so messed up. It's really not fair. I'm trying to engulf myself into my school work, which, by the way, I used to love, but now I can't seem to like it. I want, I really want to forget about her, but Sam's not someone you can forget easily. She hasn't answered any of my emails. Maybe I was a jerk for missing seeing her off, but after what happened with my dad, it would've hurt too much. I was too late. I'm STILL too late. It's like she's forgotten about me altogether. So maybe, I guess I should do the same, even though it's completely possible that I've fallen in love with her. Whoa, wait, did I really just say that?**_

_**-Freddie**_

* * *

**A/N: Wow, that was LONG.**

**But did you guys like it? I think I did alright, at least I hope so!**

**The entry at the end, by the way, is that one entry that was torn out of Freddie's notebook.**

**And all those little quotes were Sam and Freddie memories. I thought they were fitting, because the a lot of this story is about memories and how important they are.**

**Wow, isn't it crazy how Valerie, who pretty much convinced Freddie to forget about Sam, ended up helping him in the end? She's not pure evil. She let her jealousy destroy her good judgement, though.**

**Oh gosh. We've only got the EPILOGUE left. Can you believe it?!**

**Thank you to everybody! Oh and again, excuse errors, I thought you guys would want this up ASAP.**

**-Colors**


	20. Epilogue

Summary: So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving

**Summary: **So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving.

**Disclaimer: **iDon't Own iCarly or any of it's characters. Only the ones I make up:)

**A/N:** The day has come, all. It has.

**iRemember**

**Epilogue**

"Hey Carls, are they gone yet?" I take a bite of my fruit kabob and walk over to the door. Carly is standing on her toes, her eye pressed against the peephole in her door in concentration.

"No, Spencer's still trying to fight 'em off." She replies, removing herself from the door.

I laugh. "With what, this time?" Last time it had been a broom. The time before? A water gun. For a mostly serious lawyer, Spencer sure gets crazy when Samantha Puckétte's fans mob his hallway.

I guess I was kind of stupid to think that my contract being over meant my fame being over. I still have fans. Crazy fans. Crazy, stalker fans who find out where I'm staying and throw themselves at the Shay's door. My mom and I are living here until the renovations on our old apartment are done. Can you believe no one bought it? Maybe it was that bacon smoothie stain on the kitchen ceiling…

Carly thinks I should be so annoyed about the fans, but I'm not. I'll just smile and get through it, because they'll go away once they realize that they're obsessing over no one but an ordinary teenager with a geek for a boyfriend.

Yeah, you heard me correctly. _Boyfriend_.

I'm shocked too.

A wave of screams erupts from behind the door, and Spencer shouts 'get back, get back, crazy people!', as Carly answers, "His fencing sword."

"Safe choice." I smirk.

"Yep." Carly smiles with a shrug, and then looks at the clock on the kitchen counter. "Hey, we should go back upstairs. We've got six minutes."

"Yeah, let's go." I follow my best friend up the steps, upon hearing Spencer scream, 'Animals! That's what you all are! Animals' _–crash- -panic-_ 'Okay, since when is that flammable?!'

I grin as we disappear around the corner, through a familiar door, into the studio.

"Hey Freddork, we're back!" I walk over to Freddie, who is at his laptop, setting everything up.

He glares, and I glare right back. It's a competition, you see. We both glare really hard and meanly at each other after I insult him (which is quite often), and see who caves first.

Usually it's Freddie.

After a few moments of glaring and eye rolling (Carly), Freddie sighs and gives me a frustrated look. "How do you do it?"

"Loads of practice," I smile confidently.

"Well, if you weren't so _pretty_! –" he begins to argue.

"I don't accept excuses." I tell him. "And anyway, your eyes are distracting. So it's fair game."

"You've been acting in movies for three years!" he retorts. "You call _that_ fair game?"

I roll my eyes. "You're such a dork."

"Guys," Carly finally steps forward. "Not that your constant merge between fighting and flirting isn't extremely entertaining, but we've got three minutes 'til we start!"

I bet you want an overview of what's going on, so I'll give it to you.

It's been two weeks since That Day, and everything is slowly falling back into place for me. I know that's cheesy, but it's really the only way I can think of to describe it.

Carly and Freddie are on their way back to becoming friends. Sure, they might not ever get back to the way they were before, but what _will_? The important thing is, they're trying. Right now, that's all they can do.

After I made my official leave from Frund Brothers Company, Malcolm didn't have anyone to record a new remake of a song he'd already signed me for, so _he_ had to sing the song. I am telling you right now, I've never heard a funnier rendition of 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' in my life! He was fired from his job about a week ago, and Frund Bros Co is no more.

I got a ridiculously angry email from ol' Malcolm about four days ago. He claimed that I owed Jaryn and him two million dollars because he had to give it away to find me. I have plenty of money, so it didn't seem like a big deal.

But even so, the next day, a strange letter was slipped under the apartment door, labeled 'Sam.'

_**Sam, **_it had said. _**I now realize that it was wrong of me to turn you in. I'm sorry. I let jealousy get the best of me and lost control. I doubt this will cause you to forgive me, but I can't even look at it without feeling guilty and/or wanting to throw up. So here. Good luck with everything. – Valerie **_And within the envelope was the two million dollar check from Malcolm.

I was shocked, to be honest. But then Freddie told me that she hadn't stopped him from going to the airport. She even helped him research the name change thing. So once I go back to school tomorrow, I think I'll accept her apology.

School will probably be hard, by the way. Maybe when I walk in, I'll be pounced on by fellow students, or maybe ignored or shunned. The only thing I know for sure is that Miss Briggs will probably scream until her eyeballs fall out. But that's her issue.

I'll have Carly and Freddie. So I know I'll make it through. Maybe I'll even do _well_, what from all those classes on set. You never know.

I addressed a letter to Jaryn Frund (no way was it going to Malcolm), slipped the check inside, and had Spencer drive me over there to give it to him. He was absolutely thrilled and was talking about wanting to open a new record label under his control. He even asked me if I wanted to be his first client. He said he would treat me the way I should've been treated all along. That I wouldn't have to move or do any press or photo shoots that I didn't want to. That I would never see an accent on any of my name ever again.

A dream come true. For someone else, that is.

I told him no thanks. That I'm fine _right_ where I am.

I'm happy Jaryn broke free of his brother's greedy ways, though. It's not everyday that you see the little guy win.

You know how all this time I've been talking about how much I regret signing that contract? How I wished I had said something to Freddie before I left? How I wanted Samantha Puckétte to be gone?

It's clear to me now that the past is the past. And no matter where you go, what you do, or who you are, there's no way to change it. Because it's done. It's over. All you can do is learn from all those used to be's, accept them, and move forward.

Samantha Puckétte, and her life, will never really be gone from me. Maybe, years from now, no one will remember her at all. But I'll always remember what it was like to be famous like she was, whether I want to or not. It's a part of me.

There's no point in wishing you hadn't done this, or you hadn't done that. There just isn't. Save all your hopes and dreams for the future, what's to come, where they might actually come true. There's always that chance. Really. I would know.

Freddie smiles gently at me. "Are you ready?"

And now, looking back, I don't regret it at all. Any of it.

I give him a half-smile, and he squeezes my hand. "Ready, Freddie." I take my place next to Carly in front of the camera, and camera man, that I know so well.

The fact is, if none of it had happened, I might not have become who I am right now. But now that I know that under all the rules, all the paparazzi, all the tears, all the heartbreak, all the haunting memories, was something absolutely _amazing_, I'm grateful for it. All of it.

Because I'm here.

So I take a deep breath, ready to show it.

"In five, four, three, two…"

I think you can remember what happens next.

* * *

**A/N: All that, my dear readers, is the end of iRemember.**

**Wow. It's so surreal that it's done.**

**Okay, so I'm leaving for Delaware tomorrow, and I'll be back the 23****rd****, and then I'll get to work on iSwitch and another story.**

**Thank you so much to all of you who stuck with this story all the way through! You guys are awesome!:)**

**-Colors**


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